Land Beyond Dreams
by Echoes of Shadows
Summary: Antonio is saved from death by someone he'd spoken to only a few times, but who lost his life in the process. Grief-stricken, he only wishes he could have gotten to know his saviour, when his dreams suddenly become reality...or are they still only dreams?
1. Of Elections and Trucks

A/N: I've had this idea bouncing around my head for the last week or so and I felt like writing something new this evening, so I figured, what the hell, I'll write this , enjoy.  
>PS: Reviews, esp conscrit, are much appreciated.<p>

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><p>Golden light streamed from between the soft pink blossoms of the cherry trees lining both sides of the avenue. Magnificent limestone-and-marble buildings sat at the far end, blue-uniform-clad teenagers streaming out of its many doors with relieved expressions and full backpacks. It was late afternoon, and the air was calm and peaceful, save for the three conflicting students walking down the flagstoned avenue out of the school.<p>

"Aw, c'mon, Fran, you have to help the awesome me. Otherwise you'll be on the losing team." The silver-haired teenager scowled at his friend, sunlight glinting off his ruby-red eyes.

Francis shook his head. "I told you, Gilbert, this isn't a popularity contest, as you are under the delusion of such. This is serious politics. Arthur will kick your so-called awesome behind in the elections. He has won both years previously, and I see no reason why you are better than him this year."

"Fuck you," Gilbert retorted in annoyance. "I can beat that idiot any day of the week. Everyone knows I'm so much more awesome." He scowled again and glared.

Antonio laughed tautly. "Gil, I support your campaign, but don't expect to sway Francis. He may hate Arthur, but he was one of his staunchest supporters last year and I doubt he's going to change."

"He's only supporting the tea-sucker to try get some, despite the fact that the guy's blatantly got eyes for that American bastard," Gilbert pouted. "Give it up."

"That's rich, coming from someone who can't even get a girlfriend," Francis mocked.

Gilbert's hands curled into fists, but Antonio stepped in and intervened before his friends could start fighting. Again. "Ok, ok, time out, you guys. Let's just agree to disagree before someone ends up at the bottom of the lake again." Hands outstretched between the pair, his tone was light, but his eyes held a note of caution. He didn't completely expect the two to back down.

Gilbert huffed in response. "Whatever." Francis sighed, but didn't say anything, just flicked back his blond hair and looked away.

Antonio dropped his hands and inwardly drew a relieved sigh. It was never a good thing when Gilbert and Francis fought. It didn't happen all that much, but with the upcoming student council elections rearing ever closer, Antonio found himself playing peacemaker all the more often, and it was honestly quite stressful. He didn't want his two best friends to become enemies over such a trivial matter.

The trio continued along the boulevard in silence, the seven-foot-tall iron gates of the school grounds looming open in front of them. Several passed them, often with friendly glances, but the tense air over the three was thick and obvious enough for even the densest of types to stay away. Antonio wished there was something he could say to break the awkward silence, but was afraid of sparking off another treacherous argument.

They passed through the gates and turned up the street to head home. The street was packed with nose-to-tail traffic as usual, as both the schools nearby had just let out. Groups thronged outside the gates and nearby, chattering happily.

The silence was still suffocating, and Antonio was just about to say something, anything, to break it, when Gilbert suddenly stopped.

Antonio paused, frowning slightly. "Where're you going, Gil? Your house is this way."

Gilbert gestured towards a dark blue car parked nearby. "West's not meeting Feli today, so I'm gonna hitch a lift with him. Can't be arsed to walk all the way home if there's a chance I can get a ride. _Tschüss_, Toni." He walked across to the pavement's edge and jumped athletically onto the car's roof, his messenger bag banging against the windows on his way up.

Antonio sighed as the two walked on. "Lud's not gonna like that. He thinks Gilbert's irresponsible enough as it is."

"You can't deny that he is, though," Francis replied evenly, still wearing the cold expression he'd donned during their argument.

"Can't you guys just stop fighting already?" Antonio asked, running tanned fingers through his unruly brown hair. It was nearly getting too much now. He'd already noticed Gilbert's reluctance to acknowledge Francis during their goodbye a few minutes ago.

"Don't preach at me, Antonio. You hate Arthur as well; you'd be rejoicing if he lost and you know it." Francis was obviously in a bad mood beyond Gilbert's actions, he didn't usually snap at people. Well, except Arthur and Alfred, but they were special cases.

"Fran-" Antonio began, reaching out a hand.

"Forget it," Francis sighed. "I'm going home and taking a long, hot bath, then curl up with a glass of wine and a good book to see if I can forget those idiots. I'll see you tomorrow." Before Antonio could respond, he turned smartly on one heel and stalked up off the street, pausing only to blow a kiss at a passing dark-haired Italian in the year below, who responded with profane language and obscene gestures.

Antonio turned back and kept walking back to his house by himself. This situation really was getting worse. Francis's pride and Gilbert's stubbornness really didn't help. Antonio didn't see why they had to deliberately provoke each other into conflict. His head was beginning to hurt trying to come up with solutions that'd satisfy everyone. And if they did start hating each other, what then? They were a trio, meaning that if they split into two, someone was left on their own. Who should Antonio side with, and should he even side with anyone? It wouldn't be fair to either of them; Antonio liked and respected both his friends equally, he didn't want to shoulder one out and have them hate him. He shook his head in despair and started to cross the road.

_Why doesn't anyone look at things rationally anymore? Frankly, I'll be relieved when this whole election thing's over for good. No wait, even then the winner'll be lording it over the loser. It'll almost be worse– _

The sharp blast of a horn jerked him out of his thoughts and he looked up.

A large red truck was bearing down on him, less than twenty feet away and closing fast. He could see the driver's terrified moustached face in the dusty cab, sense the heat of the engine, feel the buffet of wild air currents blow up by the leviathan's unstoppable motion. His feet felt glued to the road as a wave of pure terror hit him. Antonio closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

Something slammed into his side and he hit the tarmac hard. Stars turned his vision into a kaleidoscope and all thoughts were banished from his head by pain. Muffled screams assaulted his ears, but no words were distinct and it all sounded so very far away. and he gave up and let the blackness take him.


	2. An Unexpected Loss

A/N: Whoa. This has to be the fastest update I've ever done without writing the chapters beforehand. Dont expect the rest to be this fast, though. I just felt like writing.

Oh, and I forgot this from the previous chapter. I don't own Hetalia, etc, etc, if you're offended by swearing or whatever, you've been warned and hence should go get a life, etc, etc, this applies for all chapters of this and all my work, etc, etc. Now, on with the story!

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><p>"...exactly. It truly makes us thankful for what we have."<p>

There was a voice wafting into his ears. It sounded so far away, but he could tell whoever was speaking was close by. Antonio stirred vaguely. Why did the voice sound so familiar? Where was he? Why did his arm hurt?

He opened his eyes, only to immediately shut them again as they were assaulted by white. "Ow..." he moaned quietly.

The voice spoke again. "_Dieu merci! _He is awake!" A hand gently touched Antonio's arm.

That's why the voice sounded so familiar – it was Francis. Antonio opened his eyes again, much more carefully this time, and his friend's blond-framed face swam into view in front of him, a smile splitting it from ear to ear. "_Antoine_, we are so glad you're alright."

"Yeah, man. You nearly died. Scared the shit out the awesome me when I heard." Antonio turned his head slightly and saw Gilbert standing at the foot of the bed, a relieved grin on his pale face.

Instantly Antonio remembered what had happened. So that's where he was now, in hospital. It was fairly obvious, what with all the starched white lined and the sterile white walls. But it was moderately confusing. How on earth had he managed to survive an impact with that behemoth of a truck? Surely he should be dead, or at least grievously injured. But no, all he felt was a slight pain in his head and his right arm was in a sling. A fabric sling, though, so it wasn't even broken.

He turned his head back up to realised that Francis was in full-flow. "...and we realised that it means nothing. School council elections are worthless compared to someone's life, especially that of a friend. Gilbert and I have resolved to end this silly feud for good now. We were both devastated when we heard, after all."

"Mmm," Antonio replied vaguely, still confused. "How long have I been out?"

"'Bout four hours?" Gilbert said, glancing at his watch. "It's quarter past eight now, same evening. We decided we'd stay 'till you woke up. You know, 'cos we're awesome friends like that."

Antonio nodded. "Ok. But...how am I even still alive? The last thing I remember is being feet away from a truck-related death. Wouldn't that have at least broken one of my bones?"

Francis and Gilbert exchanged glances. The smiles had gone from both of their faces instantly upon mentioning this, replaced instead by distressed, sorrowful looks.

"Well..." Francis began unsurely. "We thought it best not to speak of this until you'd recovered a bit, but..." His words cut off as his voice cracked. Antonio could have sworn he saw tears in his friend's cornflower blue eyes.

"You were pushed out of its path," Gilbert completed. "The lorry never hit you. You just got buffeted about a bit."

_That made sense_, Antonio thought. "So, someone saved me? Are they ok too?"

Gilbert paused and bit his lip, before solemnly shaking his head. "He died...about an hour after he was brought into hospital. There wasn't anything the doctors could do."

The news hit Antonio like a sledgehammer. Someone had saved his life, and then died for it? By all rights he should be dead by now, but it was actually someone else instead. Stabs of guilt wracked his mind.

"Who?" he managed to croak.

There was a tense pause. "Lovino Vargas," Francis said eventually. "We don't know why he did it, but..." He stopped talking again and choked back a sob.

_Lovino Vargas... I know – I knew him. We were on the same football team, he was quite good. I never spoke to him much, though. Why did he sacrifice his own life for mine? Why did I have any meaning to him, especially one enough for him to lose everything he's ever had? He's got a brother – oh God, Feliciano! What...I can't even begin to comprehend what he must be going through now. His brother's dead. That could have been me...that should have been me. _

Everything was going fuzzy, Antonio didn't even realise he was hyperventilating until Francis called for a nurse and his vision blacked out for the second time that day.

They held the funeral two days later, at a nearby church. Antonio was surprised by how many people turned out – he'd never thought Lovino had that many friends.

But the school had hailed him as a hero for what he did. He'd got a mention in assembly the day before, and there was talk of a memorial garden being erected in the school grounds. Almost everyone in both Lovino's year and Antonio's had turned up to the funeral service, all clad in black with solemn expressions. Most of the girls – and even a few of the guys – had been in tears at at least one point while the priest was reading the eulogy.

Poor Feliciano was suffering the worst by far though. The younger Italian had been in floods of tears throughout the entire ceremony, sobbing in heartbreak in Ludwig's strong arms. The German had just sat there, silently holding him. After all, what could you say in times like this? Nothing could possibly improve such a situation.

He'd stood up once, to play a short tune on the violin. The whole audience watched in silence as he played a soul-wrenching melody, tears streaking silently down from puffy red eyes as he mourned through song. The lament of a solitary boy, who'd lost the last relative he had in the world. There hadn't been a dry eye in the house by the end.

The coffin itself was barely visible under dozens of garlands and bouquets of flowers. The biggest, the one on the top, was a clutch of daisies and cyclamen as a final gesture from Feliciano. But there were many others; roses from Arthur, irises from Francis, cornflowers from Gilbert and Ludwig. So many people had sent in tributes, and there were even more at the scene of the crash site. The fence near the road looked like a florist's had exploded. It was moving, how many people came out at times like this. But the thing was, they'd never spoken much to Lovino when he was alive.

Antonio had stood there in his pristine black suit through it all, motionless. All he felt beyond the numbness that gripped his limbs was loss. Loss that someone he'd known had been cruelly taken from the world before their time. Devastation that Lovino had sacrificed his life, that he'd never be among them again. Guilt that Lovino had died in his place and left so many grieving. Regret that he'd only spoken to Lovino a few times, that he'd never gotten to know him, yet the boy had given his life.

He wished it hadn't happened, that it wasn't real, that he'd just fallen asleep in class and everything was just a dream.

But it wasn't. And that was the worst thing, the harsh, painful, soul-destroying reality of it all.

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><p>Just a note that, although Lovino's dead, it doesn't mean he's gone from the story. Not by any means. <strong>*dramatic music* <strong>


	3. Grievance

The next week was just a dull, uninteresting blur for Antonio. Classes were grey and faint, and their subjects, even ones he'd previously enjoyed, held no meaning. Everything else had dredged along at a constant, muddling pace, each minute leading aimlessly onto the next.

His mind hadn't really been on any of it, though. For some reason, quite an obvious one actually, he hadn't been able to get Lovino out of his head. He'd been consumed by guilt, loss, sadness, a myriad of awful emotions that rendered him unable to do anything. He felt like such a selfish fool that he'd never bothered to get to know the guy while he could. And it was too late now, far too late. But if he could turn back time, if he could have one wish, it would be that. To know the Italian boy, to be friends, maybe-

Fingers snapped in front of his face, jerking him out of his thoughts. "Yo, Tonio, wake up already." Antonio blinked and the school lunchroom hazed into view in front of him.

"Huh? Oh, right. Did you say something?"

Gilbert slapped his forehead with his palm. "Jeez, Toni, what's been up with you this week? This is like the fifth time you've spaced out, and it's only twenty minutes into lunch. You haven't even started eating yet."

"Oh. Right," Antonio muttered, obediently taking a bite of the chorizo sandwich on the table in front of him. It tasted like cotton wool. Gilbert scowled, obviously not pleased.

"You're mad, Tonio, I swear," he said off-handedly, deciding it was probably best to drop the subject. He pulled a small bag of seed out of the pocket of his non-regulation leather jacket and laid it on the table. "Food's up, Gilbird!" Upon seeing no sign of his pet, he swiveled around on the bench and looked about the room, whistling. "Here, little buddy! Awesome foods!" A few seconds later he was rewarded with a short bout of delighted cheeping and a small yellow feather ball crash-landing onto the table. Gilbert turned back around, laughing and tipped the seed out onto the table. His little bird attacked the seeds with a speed reminiscent of a woodpecker.

"Hey, where's Francis?" Antonio asked suddenly, realising what had been missing from the table. It was just him and Gilbert on either side of the plastic-topped grey surface at the moment.

Gilbert waved a hand in the general direction of the rest of the canteen. "Over there somewhere. Either groping someone or pissing Arthur off, pick one. He's been gone for over ten minutes, you only just noticed now?"

Antonio vaguely hummed an affirmative and carried on eating his sandwich. This was rapidly becoming problematic; people kept asking him if he was alright, if he'd heard what they were saying, if he needed to see a doctor. He didn't need to see a doctor, he was perfectly fine. A bit on the despondent and remorseful side, perhaps, but not mad. He couldn't see what people were worried about.

"_Antoine_, are you listening?" Suddenly, Francis was there next to him. Apparently he'd been there for some time now. He was waving a hand in front of the Spaniard's face; he'd zoned out again. The glazed green eyes snapped back into focus as their owner straightened up.

"Sorry, guys," he muttered in a daze.

"Seriously, Antonio, get with it," Gilbert told him. "I filled the aristocrat's poncy umbrella with shaving foam when he left it in the music room earlier. It's raining now, so usually we'd be hiding around the corner from him waiting for the explosion with cameras at the ready. But instead we're just sat here 'cos you're moping. Are you still hung up about that Vargas kid?"

"Gilbert! Be more respectful! And tactful!" Francis hissed, slamming both hands on the tabletop and shooting a sharp glance at his friend.

Antonio shook his head. Best not to worry his friends any more. He'd end up in a mental hospital if he wasn't careful. "No, it's not that," he lied. "I'm just...tired. I haven't slept well since the accident. Reasserting priorities; I don't see the point in a lot of what I do anymore. Like a mid-life crisis, except I'm eighteen not forty-five." He had to put a lot of effort in to stop the words from crashing into one another.

Francis frowned, obviously not convinced. But he didn't have a chance to say anything further as the bell rang its off-key note from the wall across the room. Antonio picked up his backpack and joined the crowd heading out the steel-edged doors into the main corridor. Back to the useless waste of time known as lessons. What use was...wait, where was he meant to be going?

Eventually he found the classroom he was supposed to have been in – ten minutes late, admittedly – and managed to work his way through his last two classes without his mental health being enquired after for once.

He wandered up the avenue towards the gates by himself, lost in his own thoughts, trying to put it out of his mind that this was where it all began. The wind whistled through the delicate petals on the trees, the only sound that he could hear since spoken word began to seem distant and alien. For some reason, he felt completely drained, even though he hadn't really done anything. He just wanted to go home, maybe make some churros, play some guitar and then sleep for about twelve hours. Not that there was much chance of that, though. School caused him to get up at half six every morning, and tomorrow was Friday, not a weekend, so no lie-ins for Antonio. Unfortunately.

A hand clapped his shoulder, nearly making him fall over in fright. "Jumpy today, ain't ya," said a voice. Oh. It was just Gilbert.

"We never finished our conversation at lunch, _vous savez_," Francis continued, sliding an arm around Antonio's shoulders. "You're coming over to my house, and we're going to sort things out for you." Oh dear. This didn't sound like it was going to bode well. Couldn't they see that he was tired and just wanted to go home?

"Yeah," Gilbert added, blunt as always. "You can go back to normal, and we can go back to being the awesome Bad Touch Trio, just like always."

Antonio sighed, but he didn't have the strength to argue back, so he just started to follow his friends through the faceless streets to Francis' house.

The three settled on the plush sofas in Francis' open-plan lounge area. Gilbert had reclined his seat and had his feet propped up on the footrest that had extended out. Soft music wafted out of the speakers at either end of the room.

Francis slid his fingers around the glass of wine he'd poured himself. The other two had declined drinks, although Gilbert had somehow managed to obtain a can of beer from somewhere. He usually had one hanging around – he'd been kicked out of a maths class once for drinking.

"So, what is up with you, Antoine? Francis asked. "You've been acting strange, and don't bother trying to deny it. We're your friends, we only want to help you."

"I told you, I'm just tired," Antonio insisted, trying to keep up the pretence he'd started earlier.

Gilbert snorted. "_Kuhscheiße_."

Francis sighed and gave Gilbert a disdainful glance. "While I may not use that exact phrasing, Gilbert is right. There's something bothering you, _mon cher_. Tell us."

The room was silent for a long time as Antonio wrestled with the decision. He wasn't entirely sure why he was trying to hide it from his friends, but for some reason he didn't want to tell them.

But eventually, his conscience won and he dropped his head into his hands. "Gilbert was right earlier. The accident – what happened with Lovino. That's what's been bothering me."

The other two exchanged concerned glances, but let Antonio continue. "I...I've just been feeling so guilty. It's like what I told you about a few days ago, but...almost more. It's kinda hard to explain. This last week's almost been a dream. Like I shouldn't be alive anymore, and I'm only walking through the motions that I might be if I'd survived. It's been hard to get everything out of my head. I...we...lost Lovino forever. And it's not just that, it's Feliciano too. He's been so sad all week, almost like he's a different person. Usually he's bouncing around, talking about pasta and hugging people. But now he just sits there, not saying a word, and as soon as anything reminds him of his brother, he silently sits there with tears spilling down his face. It's honestly heartbreaking. I just feel awful that I never really knew his brother. I've had opportunities, sometimes even thought about it, but never acted on it. We were on good terms, yes, but you couldn't call us friends. I wish I'd acted differently. There was some reason that his brother saved me, but one I never bothered to learn and one I now will never learn."

Silence reigned again as Gilbert and Francis digested this speech.

"Y'know," Gilbert said eventually. "I reckon you're alive though. We'd know if you were dead and stuff. So you're not just a zombie or walking ghost or whatever you were implying."

Francis shot him a strange glance for at least the second time that day, and shifted up the sofa next to Antonio, placing a hand on his leg. "Antoine, my best guess is that this is a normal reaction for someone who has been through what you have. And now, the best thing for you to do is to begin to accept what happened and move on, just as Feliciano is having to do."

Antonio looked up, frowning slightly. "But, we can't just forget-"

"I'm not asking you to forget," Francis interrupted. "Moving on is different. You need to realise that this is not the end of the world, more of a point in life where you realise...its reality."

"Yeah, like life sucks and that, but you can't sit around and mope for ages just 'cos some bad stuff happened," Gilbert added. "You gotta get back to where you were and...well, not learn from it, that's the wrong phrase, but it's something like that."

Antonio wasn't convinced. It didn't seem right, just to move on. He couldn't just forget that this all happened, that was all wrong. You couldn't just talk about these things in terms of life in general. After all, Lovino had lost his; that wasn't general at all, that was serious and devastating.

When he didn't reply again, Gilbert sighed and spoke up again. "C'mon, Toni. Nothing's gonna happen if you just sit here. Help us help you, and all that."

"I can't move on," Antonio said slowly. "I can't forget."

"_Cher_, this isn't about forgetting. It's about understanding-"

"They're the same thing! You guys don't get it!" Antonio yelled, leaping to his feet. "You aren't even trying to understand! I've explained but you aren't listening, and you expect me to conform to your views? This isn't just going to go away!" With this, he snatched up his bag from next to the sofa's arm and strode angrily out, the door closing behind him with a deafening bang.

Gilbert looked uneasily at Francis. "D'you think we blew his mind? He's not making any sense."

"I don't know," the French student replied. "I just hope he's alright."

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><p>I don't know if Antonio's a little bit OOC in this chapter or not...but it's kinda necessary in order for the next chapter to move forward. That's when stuff begins to happen, or whatever. Yay.<br>Written while listening to _I'm Not Okay_ by MCR and _Einsamkei__t, _Germany's character song, on repeat. Rather apt, I think.  
>I'm actually surprised I've got this up due to the shitloads of work I've got to do, but then, I enjoy writing this fic and if I've got the motivation, I write.<p>

Oh, and on a translatory note, 'Kuhscheiße' is pretty much the equivalent of 'bullshit'.


	4. Strange Places

Antonio threw his bag onto the leather sofa in a fit of despair and stormed into the kitchen, mind more of a tumultuous whirl than an angry tornado. Why couldn't people just understand? They expected him to be able to move on from this? Why? How? Someone had _died_, you can't just expect it to be over and forgotten in a week!

With a disgusted growl, he kicked off his shoes, threw his blazer over the back of a dining chair and abandoned his red-and-black striped tie on top of the blue fabric, where it promptly slipped off and floated lazily to the ground. He flicked on the kitchen light, then leant against the counter and sighed. The light flickered above, its crackle loud in the sudden silence. Now he was back in his own house, his anger was fading fast, and he just felt sad and lost and tired.

Sleep, that was what he needed, it was what he should have got a while back. Tiredness never helped in situations like this, it would only exacerbate things. In fact it already had. He hadn't meant to yell at his friends; if anything, he'd overreacted. First thing tomorrow, he'd call and apologise. But not now.

He dragged himself up the stairs and across the landing, eyes becoming heavier with each step. Without even bothering to change out of his uniform, he collapsed face-first onto the soft blankets of his bed, letting the warm fabric lull his mind into a blank, comfortable haze.

And the last thing to pass through his thoughts before he lost consciousness was a now familiar pair of golden-brown eyes.

To his surprise, he didn't get woken up by his alarm the next morning. In fact, he didn't even wake up in his own bed. Or even in his own house. Or anywhere he recognised at all.

To be precise, he was lying under an oak tree at the top of a grassy knoll, with sunlight streaming down through the crisp green leaves from an azure sky. It was quiet and peaceful under the cool shadows.

But where was he?

He'd certainly never been here before; he'd remember a place this beautiful. There was no place like this anywhere near where he lived either. It was too bright, too clear, too green.

He was pretty sure it was a dream. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep, after all.

Yet it didn't feel like a dream. It was far too detailed for a dream, far too focused and sharp. Besides, he didn't even dream in full colour, let alone with all five senses and fully conscious thought in real time. Also, he was pretty sure he'd just woken up. So was it a real place, or not?

Well, if it was a dream, it wouldn't harm to explore the place. If it wasn't, it'd help to find out where he was and why.

It really was beautiful, he thought, surveying the area, now he was over the initial shock of arriving here. The air was warm, comfortably warm, like summer was just around the corner. Golden light shimmered off the soft green grass of the gently sloping hills, a wide expanse of green sweeping in every direction, except for a sparkling blue lake down in a valley nearby. There was a forest covering the slopes on the horizon, European conifers from the looks of it, and some distance off to the left was what looked like a small town.

It was in this last direction that Antonio decided to set off. Towns were usually where interesting things would happen, and, if it had a name, he'd find out where he was. Picking up a swift but measured pace down the hill, he soon came across a smooth sandstone road meandering gradually around the curves of the land. He followed it without much of a thought; it looked to be heading towards the town anyway. Letting his feet do the walking automatically, he slowly turned his head from one side to the other, getting a feel of his new surroundings.

This place...it felt way too real to be a dream. He could feel every whistle of the wind, hear every song of the birds, see every detail on the landscape. He could listen to the very moment he was in and feel it passing by, sharper than a freshly honed knife. It had an edge to it, one that just felt so unbelievably _brilliant_ that he almost didn't want to leave.

A painful jolt ran through his heart at this thought. That was a dangerous thought. No, he couldn't stay here, he had to find someone, learn where he was and take the first way back home.

_It's almost suspicious, the way that this place has captivated me. Is it a trap? Either way, I'd better be on my guard. These sorts of thoughts really aren't good. _

He passed through lofty marble arches into the town itself, delicate, refreshing trees lining the avenue through which he passed. Tall buildings lined the streets within, built out of flawless stone with breathtaking architecture. Fresh flowers bloomed in their windowboxes with bright explosions of perfectly formed colour. Utterly breathtaking, it was hard to describe it any other way.

Each street wound lazily onto the next in carefree, gentle curves and through ornate arches and pillars. Through one side-street he saw a river through across the way, crossed by an elaborately wrought bridge over its smooth waters. Eventually he turned into a wide cobbled _piazza_, at the end of which was a beautifully carved fountain, where a bearded man stood proud above a flanking of men and horses. Gold coins glittered in the large collecting pool, catching the rainbows of light reflected off the falling droplets.

After ten or fifteen minutes of marvelling as he wandered, he walked out and under another archway, and his eyes were met with an immaculate green plaza stretching out in a circle at least two hundred metres in diameter. And, in the centre, was where surprise nearly short-circuited his brain.

That was...the Leaning Tower of Pisa? What the hell was that doing here? This wasn't Pisa, he was pretty sure he wasn't even in Italy. And that, on the edge of the plaza, that was the Coliseum, from Rome, in all its renowned glory. If it wasn't the real thing, it certainly was a brilliant copy. Why were these Italian monuments all in one place? His breath hitched as he realised the fountain he'd passed earlier was an exact copy of the Trevi fountain; in fact, he had an awful, subconscious feeling that it _was_ the Trevi fountain. But that was impossible, surely?

_Strange_, Antonio thought as he circumambulated the grassy ring, fear beginning to rise in his heart. _Really, really strange. This place, wherever it is, is really starting to freak me out. It can't be real. All these monuments, they aren't in the same place, they should be miles apart. And where is everyone? There's _nobody _here, not one person. That's the thing that really freaks me out, that there's no one here. If I'm lucid dreaming, I should be able to wake up and escape, or at least make someone turn up and talk to me. So...then I guess this place must be real. It sure feels real. Way too real to have been dreamed up. Which only leaves the question of how I got here from my house. Who brought me here? And why are all these monuments here; are they real? I need to find someone and get my questions answered. Quickly. Else I might go mad. _

But there was no one. Throughout the entire town there was no one. Antonio even searched inside some of the buildings. There were signs of life there, belongings and such, but not a single person. The place didn't feel cold and abandoned, far from it, but it was sure as hell uninhabited. No longer could he relax, his muscles were tensed as if expecting a fight at any moment. It was almost like a horror movie, only stranger.

Time to get out. He dug in his pocket for his mobile phone, now eternally grateful that he'd fallen asleep in his uniform. He was mentally hitting himself for not thinking of this idea sooner, glad Gilbert and Francis weren't here at the moment. They were always calling him clueless. Then again, he rather wished that they were here.

The compact screen lit up as he slid the device open, breathing suddenly ragged. And a cold sense of dread gripped him as he read the display.

_No network available. _

Ignoring this, he punched in Gilbert's number from the speed dial and held the phone to his ear. There was a short, heart-rending pause, then; "_The number you have dialled is unable to be connected at this time. Please try again." _Damn it.

_Ok, focus, Antonio, focus. There's no point freaking out. You'll just have to survive on your own. _He forced his breathing to slow and his mind to calm, then took a deep breath and began to assess the situation.

From the looks of the sun's movement across the sky, it was early afternoon now, and since it had been morning when he'd woken up, he'd been fruitlessly searching for hours. Frustrated and slightly apprehensive, he decided to leave the town and try finding people elsewhere. He could always come back, it wasn't hard to find the place. All the roads, few as they were, seemed to lead here.

The sun's golden orb was much higher in the sky as he set off, and he could feel its rays beating down on him. It was a bit warmer than it had been, he'd been noticing it in the back of his mind. It wasn't uncomfortable though – he was Spanish, after all, and used to such weather. To be honest, it was nice, especially after the winter they'd had at home a couple of months back.

Anyway, back to reality. If he was going to be stuck here for a while, he needed to make sure he was going to be safe and well. So, check the Antonio-surviving list. Civilisation, check. Shelter, also check. Location, no idea yet. Food, not any from the looks of it. People, even less so. Despite the brilliance of the place itself, Antonio feeling bleaker by the second. And he was usually a rather cheerful, carefree person.

It was perhaps half an hour later when he reached the top of a hill, in the opposite direction to where he'd woken up from. Panting slightly from the effort, he stopped at the top and caught his breath. The leather shoes he was currently wearing were _not_ made for walking for hours on end, and his checked blue trousers were getting a little warm. It wasn't supposed to be almost summer at the moment, they were _winter_ trousers, after all.

But then he looked up and forgot all about the weather.

Spread out before him was a field of tomatoes the size of a city block, bright, leafy plants each overloaded with succulent, swollen red orbs. He'd never seen anything like it before. Antonio could feel his mouth water just looking at them.

A sudden movement caught his eye and he turned his head towards it. Amongst the plants, there was a young man tending to the plants, a large wicker basket half full of ripe tomatoes next to his legs. He wore a loose white shirt and tan shorts, with his face hidden by a large straw hat to keep off the sun.

Delighted to finally find some company and perhaps some answers about what had happened to him, Antonio sprinted down the hill without a second though, feet spiralling chaotically so that he almost fell over from excitement. As he got into the field, between the rows of tomatoes, about twenty metres away from the young man, he waved one arm above his head in greeting.

"Hello!" he called loudly. "Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could help me out?"

* * *

><p>Guess who? [Hint; it's not obvious at all :P]<br>Yay for strange creepy place full of pretty pretty things and shiny monumentses. I had fun writing this chapter. But I think I will have more fun writing the next one.


	5. An Impossible Chance

A/N: A quick note on this chapter; I think it may get little confusing in places. If there's anything that doesn't make sense, please say so and I will get Lovino to explain in in due course.  
>Also, massive thank you to everyone who's reviewedfaved/alerted. I'm a happy author. :3

* * *

><p>"Hello!" Antonio called loudly. "Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could help me out?"<p>

The figure jumped, startled, and almost knocked over his basket of tomatoes. "What the hell?" He whirled around, then promptly dropped the secateurs he was holding and Antonio heard a clearly audible gasp escape his lips as he froze to the spot.

Antonio ran a hand through his messy brown hair nervously, wondering what was so wrong. "Hehe, sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you. I was just hoping you could help me."

The other was still frozen to the spot, breath coming short and shaky. "It...it's not possible, damn it..."

"Huh?" Antonio was more confused than ever by this statement. "What's not possible? Can't you help me?"

"You..." The other's voice faded out after the solo word, and it occurred to Antonio that he recognised the voice. He'd been thinking of it for days, after all. But...that was even more impossible than this place itself...wasn't it?

The young man removed his straw hat, an unruly curl springing out from the right side of chocolate brown locks. Antonio's eyes were met by a pair of wide, confused amber orbs, in an expression frozen with utter disbelief. He almost felt his heart stop at the contact.

"Lo...Lovino?" he asked hesitantly. This couldn't be true, it wasn't feasible. Surely this had to be a dream now; it was what he'd wanted beyond all imagination, come to life before his eyes. He must have gone mad.

"Antonio..." the Italian teenager breathed softly in reply. Antonio could tell Lovino was about as stunned as he was, if not more. His mouth was held half open, his eyes staring deeply into Antonio's, almost as if he'd been paralysed in place.

Antonio gingerly stepped closer, almost as if Lovino might disappear if he got too near. "Lovino? Is that really you? Are you real? I...we..." He shook his head incredulously. "But you're dead!"

This snapped Lovino out of his daze. "Dead? 'Course I'm dead, you stupid jerk. I got hit by a fucking truck, damn it! How'd you think I'd survive that, huh? Jackass." He folded his arms across his chest and scowled at the floor. Maybe it was just the sun on his face, but Antonio could swear he'd gone slightly pink.

"I'm sorry," Antonio replied unsurely. "Wait...if you're dead...what are you doing here?"

Lovino looked at him like he was an idiot. "Me? I should be the one asked that question! What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Antonio was relieved to talk a bit about his situation, even if it had suddenly multiplied by a confusion factor of a million. "I...kinda woke up here. I don't know where this is, or how I got here, or how to get back. My phone doesn't work here either. I've spent hours wandering around this place, and then...the first person I come across is you. But...you're dead. How is it even possible for us to be talking, let alone in the same place?" He promptly stopped himself from rambling, hoping desperately that Lovino had some kind of answers. Not that he was mad keen on returning home for a while.

The younger stroked his chin thoughtfully, his face wracked with confusion. "You...just appeared here? You didn't meet anyone on the way in?"

Antonio shook his head. "Nope. You're the first person I've seen."

"Hmm. That's...weird? Are you dead?" he asked suddenly.

Antonio was struck by this question. "Dead? I should hope not. _Dios_, I didn't die in my sleep, did I? Did I?" His voice rose in pitch as panic threatened to clutch his heart, and he shut his eyes, trying to stay calm. Dead. He didn't want to be dead. He wouldn't ever see his friends again, or joke about in class with Gilbert, or stop Francis chasing people, or even just wander around his house listening to music and making churros. No, death wasn't good, not good at all. Even if Lovino was in this world, he really should be careful of what he wished for.

"Oi, bastard, don't freak." Something poked him in the arm, and he looked up to see Lovino's face less than two feet away, decorated with a concerned expression.

"I...I don't want to be dead..." Antonio whispered, collapsing to his knees on the warm, rough earth. Traitorous tears welled in his eyes and his breath came in forced jumps. He couldn't see, he couldn't think. Everything seemed so far away, he barely felt anything anymore.

A hand on his shoulder, something muttered softly in Italian in his ear, and slowly, he came back to his senses. He opened his eyes once more and met Lovino's eyes for the third time. The sparkling gold was comforting, and somehow, just by being close, Lovino was beginning to calm Antonio down.

"You stopped freaking out yet?" he asked. "Good. Anyway, as I was about to say before you panicked, you're not dead. I was only asking if you knew if you were, damn it. Which, from your reaction, you're not. Am I right?"

Antonio nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. So...he wasn't dead?

Lovino sat down cross-legged opposite him. "Ok. So, let me get this straight. You woke up here, after going to sleep normally in your world. But you didn't meet anyone on your way in, and you know nothing about this place, which means you're not dead. Which is weird." His face was a mask of confusion. And something else, something Antonio couldn't quite put his finger on.

Then the impact of a phrase Lovino had just said suddenly registered in his brain and his jaw dropped. "Wait – my world? What do you mean?"

Again with the 'you're an idiot' expression. Lovino was good at that look. "You've got to be kidding! You can't seriously think this place is part of Earth, right?"

Antonio was more confused than ever. "It's not? Wait, wait, Lovino, start over please! I don't get anything, seriously. Where is this place, how did I get here, what are you doing here and what's going on?"

"Calm down, calm down," Lovino replied with a short gesture of his hands. "Damn it, don't you get that I'm about as confused as you in this? You're here, yet you're not dead, what am I supposed to-" He stopped himself and swallowed visibly. "Forget that. I'll try explain as best I can." He stood up and motioned for Antonio to do the same. "Let's walk, I'll talk as we go. Maybe show you some stuff too. I don't know."

Antonio nodded and pulled himself to his feet. He could almost feel a headache coming on from all the confusion and tangled thoughts.

Something pulled on his sleeve slightly and he spotted a creeping tomato plant caught on the hem of the fabric. He turned, intent on letting the garment free, but the movement was too much and the material tore a short hole up the sleeve. It was annoying, but he ignored it and kept following Lovino through the rows of luscious tomatoes back in the direction of the town. He had bigger things to worry about, after all.

Once they reached the grass and started up the slight hill, Lovino dropped back so they were walking side by side. "Ok, explanation. So, as you so tactfully stated, I'm dead. Saved your sorry ass in the process, I might add. You better be damn grateful, bastard. Anyway, since I am, I've gone to what's generally known as heaven. Which is where we are right now."

Antonio blinked, stunned once again into silence. This was a rather hard-to-digest fact, after all. It was...it was just impossible. But then again, how much of today had been even slightly feasible? "Heaven? What? Really? I thought it was all white, with angels and clouds and that."

"Yeah, that's the general perception," Lovino nodded. "It's also what you get at the start. Basically, once you die, you come here. At first it's all the same, classic white-clouds-and-harmony crap. But you see, everyone's different. So their perception of heaven's different. And so, heaven adapts so everyone sees it differently; they see it how they want to see it. Like everyone'd really find a bunch of stupid clouds heavenly. _Che palle_." He rolled his eyes at the cloudless sky and pulled his hat back onto his head.

"So...this is how you see heaven?" Antonio was struggling to keep up with this on top of everything else that had happened today.

"Yup. It's pretty sweet here, ain't it." This was a statement, not a question, Antonio noticed. But he had to agree. He'd noticed earlier that it was truly brilliant being here, beautiful weather, magnificent scenery, fields of tomatoes. From what he knew of Lovino, the Italian really would find this place, well, heavenly.

"So, basically," the Italian continued. "This place moulds itself according to a person's thoughts. If I want a warm summer day, that's what I get. If I feel like it should be snowing, it snows for a bit. But it goes away once I get cold and start cursing it, like it did the other day when that damn snow got stuck in my stupid boot." He scowled and pouted endearingly. "Anyway, within reason, I can pretty much make this place do whatever I like. 'Cos otherwise, it wouldn't be perfect and therefore not heaven. You with me so far?"

Antonio slowly nodded. It made sense, at the moment. "But then, how come I'm here? I'm not dead, we established that."

"Uh...beats me," Lovino said quickly. "How the hell am I meant to know all the answers, bastard? I'm not some sort of expert." He'd folded his arms again and was staring off in the other direction, face hidden by the brim of his hat.

"Er...sorry," Antonio murmured, surprised at the sudden hostility, and dropped into silence.

A few moments later, they stopped at the top of the hill, facing out over the alluring scenery once more. Despite all the confusion and disorientation, Antonio felt calm, and happier than he'd been in weeks.

"You really do have a good taste in heavens, you know," he said softly to Lovino, watching the afternoon sunlight sparkle on the waters of the far-off lake.

Lovino didn't respond, but when Antonio cast a quick glance in his direction, his lips were trembling as if he was trying to fight off a smile. He'd done that before, Antonio remembered. After one football game, just after they'd won, Antonio congratulated Lovino on the winning goal, and the Italian had blushed and stammered before storming off. He had looked so cute then, Antonio recalled. He'd always seemed to try hiding his feelings, unless they were anger. But he was definitely happy, Antonio could tell. Both then, and now.

He smiled and kept watching their surroundings, content for the moment just to be standing here with Lovino. They had time, possibly even all the time in the world, and, right now, neither wanted to be anywhere else.

Neither of them knew how long they stood there, just silently appreciating the other's company. The sun slowly began to dip lower and lower in the sky, sending golden beams shining into pools of pink and red blush. A group of birds twittered across, but apart from that, the world was still, beautiful, at peace. Antonio still had a long list of questions burning in his mind, but it didn't seem the right moment to ask any of them...save for one.

"Hey, Lovino?" Antonio asked quietly. "There's something else, something I've wanted to know for a while now. If you don't mind me asking...on the day you died...why did you save me?"

There was a short moment of silence, then Lovino glanced up at him, bright patches of scarlet flaring up across his cheeks. His golden eyes were wide and blinking fast; he was undeniably flustered by this question. Antonio had to resist the urge to hug him; he looked so cute like that, all red like a tomato.

The Italian twisted his fingers and spoke nervously. "I-"

BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP!

Lovino's face vanished from before his eyes before Antonio could even register what had happened. White walls rushed up to meet his eyes and he bolted upright on soft blankets, shocked and confused beyond belief.

He was awake. Back in his own room. And his alarm clock was bleeping 06:30 at him.

* * *

><p>Dun Dun Duuuun!<br>Sorry, Antonio, but I'm not giving you the easy ride just yet. That's just no fun. :)


	6. Dreaming Reality

Devastation. That was the only way to describe how he felt.

Antonio sat on top of the rumpled blankets as the agony buried deeper into his mind, staring impassively at the wall, ignoring the alarm clock that was bleeping successively faster and faster from his bedside table.

It had just been a dream. All a dream.

Even though it had felt so real, even though he could see every detail of the world like any ordinary memory, even though he knew he couldn't have imagined that place, he'd just woken up in his own bed like the ending of the most clichéd stories in existence. And the disappointment, the humiliation, the sheer _pain_ of it all lacerated his heart with dagger-sharp tendrils.

He really must have gone mad with grief, dreaming such dreams. Francis and Gilbert were right after all. He had overreacted and was suffering delusions from it. Almost a fate worse than death; seeing the only thing that was making him happy in his dreams, but it was all a trick of his mind. He couldn't believe he'd thought it was real.

Cursing his own naïveté, he pulled himself reluctantly off the bed. He still had to go to school today, after all. To move on, to begin to forget. It was the only way for him to be happy again. Even though he dreaded its impending approach.

But all he could feel was disappointment and loss.

With his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his blazer he trudged gloomily up the road to school. After the brilliance and colour of Lovino's heaven, no, _the dream world,_ the regular world seemed so dull and uninteresting, like a bland, colourless wall. No, he had to get past that. Stay with reality.

"_Bonjour_, Antonio," Francis' voice sounded hesitantly behind him. "How are you feeling this morning?" His expression was concerned, but there was an underlying nervousness about it, like he was expecting another enraged outburst.

Antonio sighed. "Not great. But, I've been thinking a bit and...you're right. I haven't been acting right for a while now, and I need to realise that and get back to reality. I'm sorry for shouting at you guys yesterday, too."

Francis smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Do not worry about it, _mon ami_. I'm glad you are a bit closer to recovery. We will be there for you every step of the way."

"Yup!" Gilbert interjected from Antonio's other side. "The Awesome Me is here for ... er ... for moral support and that. Yeah. By being awesome."

"Thanks, guys." Antonio gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile.

"You're welcome," Francis replied. "C'mon. We need to be getting to school, if we are to be attending today."

"Can't we just skive off?" Gilbert asked. "It was awesome the last time we did that, when we went-"

"No," Francis said firmly. "Bad Gilbert. We're going to school. _Allons-y." _

Several hours later, Antonio found himself once again in the cafeteria with Francis and Gilbert, feeling like he was a world apart from the chatting students clustered around the room.

"Your recovery going alright, Toni?" Gilbert asked through a mouthful of something German that Antonio couldn't remember the name of. "How many times have you zoned out in class today?"

Antonio gave Gilbert a derisory look, but didn't have the energy to answer. He had zoned out a lot in class, but no one had noticed and he wasn't going to specifically tell people about it. Particularly as Gilbert, awesome as he was, wasn't the most tactful person in the universe.

"Say, Gilbert, how's your election campaign going?" Francis asked in an effort to change the subject. "Who do you think will vote for you? Hmm, perhaps we should count." Francis, as far as Antonio had been following the proceedings – which wasn't very much – had gotten into another of his fights with Arthur and, after having come off worst, was now supporting Gilbert in the upcoming student council elections. They seemed to have conveniently forgotten saying that they'd forget about it.

"Ok," Gilbert nodded. "Well, there's us, for starters. That's three off the bat. West'll vote for me too, 'cos I'll make him and stuff, and if he does, then Feli'll do so too. Gilbert 5, Arthur 0." He folded his arms and grinned, satisfied with his summation.

"Arthur gets a vote of his own, and Alfred'll vote for Arthur as opposed to you too, so it's not exactly 0," Francis corrected him. "He'll probably get Kiku's vote too, and Roderich's."

Gilbert scowled. "Damn, he's catching up. Well, the awesome me will also have Mathias and Matthew's votes. I'm still winning." He stuck his tongue out triumphantly.

Antonio forced himself to keep concentrating on the conversation. It'd help keep his mind focused and besides, watching two sides square off in this school inevitably led to interesting consequences. Even if he wasn't quite as interested in them as usual.

"Toris, Feliks and Ivan will vote Arthur as well, as you don't get on well," Francis continued, looking like he rather enjoyed playing devil's advocate. "_Donc_, Natalia and Katyusha will vote the same way. What's that, 9-7 now?"

"I'll have Angus, Llewellyn, Sean and Patrick's votes too," Gilbert argued. "They may be his siblings, but they hate Arthur. Maybe I'll get Lilli too. Also Yao, 'cos he doesn't like Arthur much either.

Francis shook his head, fluttering his long blond hair all over the place. "Yao's more likely to vote Arthur – they're tea-drinking buddies – and Meimei will because Kiku will. Also Li Xiao, Michelle and _possibly_ Annelise. Im Yong-Soo will, of course, vote for himself even though he's not in it. He claims elections were 'made in Korea', after all. Vash will abstain, as he always does. I don't know how the rest will vote, as they're not really allied either way."

"For me, 'cos I'm awesome," Gilbert replied firmly. "Lizzy's a wild card, though. If we're on good terms, she'll vote for me; if not, Arthur. Note to awesome self; don't piss off Lizzy for a bit."

"You'll fail," the ever-faithful Frenchman replied.

"Bite me,"Gilbert snapped. "Are you sure you're on my side? 'Cos it looks here like you're secretly fucking Arthur." He gave Francis a fierce glare.

Francis sighed, a wistful smile on his face. "Oh, I wish. Point aside, you obviously can't trust people, let alone your friends." A loud ringing noise cut through the end of his statement, which both of them ignored.

"It's too much fun for the awesome me to be alone!"

"Bell," Antonio pointed out through their argument, cutting Francis off before he could make another cutting remark. Gilbert scowled again and threw his bag over his shoulder before crashing out the cafeteria over the top of several unfortunate people.

And so, the dreary hours of school eventually passed. Making up an excuse about having work to do, Antonio walked quickly out of the gates by himself, staring fixedly at the floor. He just wanted to get home. Although he wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself once he got there.

The half-hour walk home seemed to take forever, each step continuing repetitively into the next with no clear ending. Despite it being spring, there was still a chill breeze in the air, and Antonio found himself longing for the radiant warmth of Lovino's world. No matter how hard he tried, it was proving impossible to shake the thoughts from his mind. The verdant fields, the winding streets of the town, Lovino's surprised golden eyes. He just wanted to see them again. _No. Bad thoughts, Antonio. Stay away from the dreams, it's not healthy. _

Antonio collapsed on the sofa without even bothering to take his blazer or shoes off, devoid of energy and mind a blank mush. After several minutes of his face embedded in the soft material of the sofa he sat up, red fold-lines across his face, and tried to pull himself together. There really wasn't anything that he felt like doing. Maybe watch some TV?

Locating the remote buried under a fluffy red cushion, he pointed it vaguely at the TV and pressed the power button. The news was just starting as the screen burst into life, but ten minutes of financial crises, suspected murder and failed politics later, he dismissed it as too depressing and pressed the remote again. He watched twenty minutes of a comedy that completely failed to make him laugh, then flicked across to another channel once it got boring. Several dozen pointless channel-hops later, he finally decided to turn the box off. As usual, there wasn't anything on worth watching. Not that that was really a surprise.

He thought about trying to do some of the homework he'd been set, but quickly dismissed it as pointless. It wasn't even something that was interesting, so he probably more had negative motivation to do it than anything else. What to do, what to do, what to do.

Hmm. Perhaps some food would help, it was about time to eat anyway. Wandering into the kitchen, he delved in the cupboards and came up with a few tomatoes and some churros he'd made a few days ago. The food cheered him up slightly – tangy tomatoes and deliciously sweet churros always did – but only for the duration of their existence. Once they were gone, the melancholy acceptance that was becoming all too familiar took over again.

Antonio glanced at his watch as he wandered upstairs, noticing it was getting slightly dark and hoping it was fairly late now. The display glowed 18:34. Damn. There was ages of the evening still left, and he didn't even want to think about the weekend that lay beyond that. Hours and hours of unfilled time, with no point or end. He really needed to do something about that. Only ten days ago, he had too much to do and not enough time to do it in. Now it was the complete opposite.

Out of a lack of anything else to do, he headed into his bedroom, picked up his guitar from the stand by the wall and half-heartedly strummed a few chords, letting the music gently soothe him. For a while it worked, each note striking a new image in his mind as he played, fingers walking unthinkingly across the frets as the melody continued. A half-smile wandered onto his face as he began to relax.

Then, out of nowhere, his fingers slipped and a jarring discord pulled him harshly back to reality. Thoughts of despair and Lovino once again came back to the forefront of his mind. Frowning slightly, Antonio pushed them away and started playing again, but he'd barely touched four strings when the melody broke off again and screeching dissonance grated his ears again. Frustrated, he tried again and again, but each time ended in the same exasperating outcome. He just wasn't in the right mind to play.

He sighed and instead gathered up the clothes he'd discarded this morning, taking them downstairs to the washing machine. There was enough there to merit doing a load, if only to kill a bit more time.

Faint starlight peeked through a gap in the kitchen curtains as he knelt down before the appliance and began to sort the clothes into piles according to colour. T-shirt, underwear, a sock...where was its partner sock? Trousers, a jacket, ah, _there's_ the other sock, a shirt...

His heart stopped. That shirt...it had a rip up the left sleeve. It had been perfectly fine when he'd come home from school yesterday. The only way it had been ripped could have been...

The tomato fields.

_Was it real after all?_ he wondered, confusion once again seizing his brain in a knotted vice. _There's no other way my shirt could had gotten ripped yesterday, after all. It had to be then. But then...that means I really went there. I can't believe it. Did I really...? _With a great effort, he forced the hopeful thoughts away and shook his head fiercely._ No. Even if it was real, there's no way I could get back there, no matter how much I wanted to. Like it or not, I guess I just have to move on. _He sighed. _I'm so sorry, Lovi. I wish I could have said that to you in person. I wish I could have spent more time with you. But I guess we're doomed to be apart. _

Abandoning the washing, he stood up again and headed back upstairs. He needed another early night, then he'd sleep until tomorrow afternoon and forget that this all happened. It was the only way he could move on.

And yet, as he let sleep take him once more, there was a faint spark of hope lying buried in his heart.

* * *

><p>Hehe :3 Silly Toni, doubting his dream-realities.<br>Anyways, I reckon Chapter 7'll maybe be up quite soon, 'cos I wrote half of it before I'd got up to the first time-skip in this one. I wanted to get back to the Lovino parts. This is chapter's just a break. Lots more Lovino parts soon (probably).

Oh, and, just as a note, Angus, Llewellyn, Sean, Patrick, Li Xiao, Michelle and Annelise are Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, ROI, Hong Kong, Seychelles and Belgium respectively. I'm not sure where I'm going atm with the Gilbert-election side-story, but it's fun as an additional thing. Not to detract from the main story though.


	7. The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

The first thing he was aware of was the incessant rain on his face, falling thick and fast from the stormy grey sky. Within seconds he was soaked from head to toe, chilled to the bone and highly uncomfortable. It really didn't help that he was wearing pyjamas; they absorbed the water like it was the sole aim of their existence and were quickly twice the weight they usually were.

It was dark too, and, added to the sheets of rain, he could barely see. But, what he instantly realised was, that he was back in Lovino's world, on the same hill he'd woken up on last time.

His first thought was uncontainable joy. There was no way he'd dream of the exactly the same place two nights in a row, so it had to be real. A smile blossomed across his face. He _wasn't_ crazy. He was just...somehow turning up in another world whenever he fell asleep. At some point, he really needed to find out why that was. But he wasn't really objecting much at the moment.

Even through the downpour, Antonio could still see the beauty of the landscape nearby. The place had a different perception, too. It somehow felt more real than reality itself. It was rather strange. Confusing too. Why did he keep coming here? At least he assumed he was going to keep coming here. It had happened two nights in a row, after all.

But why was it raining? Lovino wasn't the type who'd like days like this – it was clear from last time that he much preferred warmer weather. It wasn't even tropical-storm type weather at the moment, it was too cold and dreary for that. If Lovino could control what this place did, why make it pour with torrential rain?

Nevermind that now, though. He could ask Lovino soon, once he'd found him. And he knew just the place where he'd be.

Antonio set off running and pelted towards the tomato fields over the hill beyond, bare feet squelching unpleasantly in the soggy mud of the fields.

"Lovi!" he called wildly as he ran. "Lovi! Where are you?"

But, even through the rain he could see that the rain-drenched tomato fields were devoid of life that wasn't of the fruit-bearing variety. Slightly saddened, he kept scanning the area, trying to spot the young Italian.

"Lovi?" he said again, more uncertainly this time. But, save for the incessant drum of rain, he was answered only by silence. Lovino was clearly elsewhere.

Where would he be? This place was huge, and most of it Antonio hadn't even seen. It'd take forever to find one person in its entirety. Actually, thinking logically, anyone normal would be inside in weather like this. So it was most likely that Lovino would be in the town.

With renewed vigour he set off in the other direction, back towards the distant shape of the town. By now, his hair was plastered to his head and droplets of rain ran off his fingers and nose. Mud was splashed up his thin trousers almost up to his knees. But he wasn't deterred in the slightest, in fact he felt more awake than he had in days.

The familiar arches of the town raced up to greet him seemingly seconds later and Antonio began calling again, peering inside every door and window he passed.

But, an hour of fruitless searching later, Antonio had come to the conclusion that Lovino wasn't in the town; it was as deserted as it had been the last time he came here. Perhaps even more so. There wasn't even a single sign of life, like a lit-up window or an open door. In fact, all of the doors had become securely locked, preventing his access to any kind of shelter. It was almost unfriendly, intimidating.

Lonely and downhearted, he wandered out of the far side of the town, all thoughts of shelter gone. He'd long since resigned himself to the fact that he was going to end up made of more water than person if he stayed out in this weather, and he didn't have much choice in that matter at the moment. But there wasn't anything else he could really do, aside from finding cover and waiting for himself to wake up, and he really wanted to find Lovino again. There was so much left to ask, too.

A few minutes later, a white blur some distance away caught his eye. Antonio put a hand above his eyes and squinted at it through the sheets of water. It looked somewhat like a large house, but it was too far away to be sure. May as well head towards it though.

As he got closer, the building was indeed a large house, almost mansion-like, made of white stone with a red tiled roof. There looked to be acres of beautiful gardens surrounding it too, but it was hard to tell through the rain, which still hadn't stopped, or even so much as slowed.

Either way, it was shelter, and Antonio was getting too cold and wet to care. He ran up the gravelled driveway, flinching slightly at the rough stones against his bare feet, and leapt up the half-dozen marble steps by the front door. He pushed open one of the oaken double doors – it swung open surprisingly quietly – and padded inside.

His footsteps echoed eerily in the wide marble entrance hall. Each droplet of water falling from his hair and clothes hit the floor and resonated loudly off the walls. It was cold, empty, silent. Almost even sinister. There were no lights, save from what little was visible through the windows, and long shadows dominated the empty space. The place felt like it had been abandoned for years, yet it was far too clean for that. It just felt out of place.

Casting his eyes about nervously, Antonio cautiously walked down the length of the hallway. The weight of the rain off his head and back was a relief, although he was now acutely aware of how damp he was. Corridors and doors peeked out from between carved marble pillars, each resolutely shut, inky-dark and forbidding. He passed each by, expecting them to be impassable just like the town had become.

Except for one, he noticed. Halfway down the hall, about twenty metres ahead of him, a solo door stood ajar, with a tiny chink of light escaping through the gap. Hope rekindled slightly, Antonio aimed for it and quietly poked his head around the frame.

The room inside was sizeable, probably some sort of lounge or parlour, with several large plump sofas and armchairs scattered about. Out of three large candelabras on the ceiling, only one was lit, but it provided just about enough light to see by. It was the sort of room that, if the owner of the house were to throw a party, would be quite happily filled with people sitting and chatting.

And, to Antonio's delight, sat on the bay window-seat was Lovino, staring glassy-eyed out at the rain. He was half cast in shadow from the darkness outside, wearing a baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans. His knees were drawn up to his chest, and he was clutching something red and fluffy.

Failing to repress the smile rising on his face, Antonio knocked gently on the open door. "Lovi? Hello?"

The Italian was so startled he almost fell off his seat. He turned towards Antonio with an expression perhaps even more disbelieving than the last time. Yet, there was some semblance of hope in it, it was visible in his eyes.

He put down the red, fluffy object – which Antonio could now see was a tomato-shaped cushion – and walked slowly over to Antonio, frowning ever so slightly.

"How..?" Lovino murmured, staring at Antonio as if he was an apparition.

Antonio lost no time in sweeping Lovino into a tight hug. "I'm sorry Lovi! I didn't mean to leave last time. I just got woken up by my alarm – I only seem to come here when I'm asleep. I'm so glad I'm back, though!"

"Ack!" Lovino spluttered indistinctly. "Let me go, you bastard! You're all soggy!" Antonio reluctantly released his grip and Lovino sprung away, brushing water droplets off his clothes, his face crimson.

Antonio couldn't help but melt at the look on the Italian's face. "I can't help being wet, Lovi. It's the rain outside. By the way, you look so cute when you blush," he smiled. "Like a tomato.~"

Lovino continued to splutter incoherently, scowling at the floor in a failed attempt to hide his scarlet face. Antonio was about to launch another hug at him – he seriously wanted to – but something stopped him. Not a noise, but rather, a lack of noise.

"Hey, the rain's stopped," he said quietly, peering round at the window. Not only had the downpour ended, but there was even a thin sunbeam poking through a gap in the clouds. "It's been going on for hours, and it's just suddenly stopped."

There was a faint hum of acknowledgement from Lovino's downturned face, which still looked bright red. "I guess it has."

"Hey," Antonio said slowly, his smile widening as he remembered something Lovino had told him the previous day...er, night. "Has this got anything to do with me being here?"

Lovino jumped and that adorably flustered look returned to his face. "Absolutely not! I know this stupid place adjusts itself to suit my thoughts or emotions or whatever, but for some reason it translates sunbeams from 'pissed off as hell at the unwanted appearance of an annoying Spaniard'!" He scowled again and folded his arms across his chest.

This was too much for Antonio, the Italian was radiating was more cute than he could handle. He jumped at Lovino and enveloped him in another hug, rubbing his face happily with his own. "_Tan lindo_!"

"Get off, damn it! I'm not cute! And you're getting me all wet again!" Lovino tried battering Antonio with his hands, but his efforts were rather futile, seeing as how his arms were currently pinned to his sides. Eventually Antonio relented and let him go again, but deliberately kept him fairly close should another reason to hug him arise again, despite that Lovino might get annoyed.

There was a short silence as Lovino fought to get his breath back and banish the blood from his face. Antonio, meanwhile, was more than happy just to be where he was, just watching the other's face. He could tell just from Lovino's shining eyes that he wasn't anywhere near as angry as he was trying to be. Plus, the world was altering itself to suit his emotions again, and it didn't seem anywhere near annoyed. Even the candles near the ceiling had somehow burst into life. Outside, the clouds had almost completely dissipated and the sun had returned to its bright warming splendour at the top of the sky.

"This is a really pretty house, Lovi," Antonio said, once the silence began to get slightly uncomfortable.

"Hmmph," Lovino scowled. "Maybe. You're getting the floor all wet though. Go dry off or something."

He had a point, Antonio realised. He'd been damp for so long that he was almost used to the feeling, but, thinking about it, it'd be so nice to get dry. "How? I don't have a towel or anything. And my clothes will still be damp even if I can dry myself off."

Lovino seemed to notice Antonio's clothes for the first time and his face cracked into a smirk. "Heh. You're wearing pyjamas. You look so stupid."

The comment stung slightly, but Antonio could tell Lovino didn't really mean it and besides, the smirk was just close enough to a smile that he'd let it pass. "Aw, don't be harsh, Lovi. I was asleep, so of course I'd be wearing pyjamas. Do you have anything I could wear, so I can be dry?"

Lovino shrugged. "I guess you can borrow my stuff, as long as you don't ruin it. It'll be a bit small on you, though."

"Can't you change things here so they fit me?" Antonio frowned.

"Shut up." Lovino was scowling again; he'd obviously forgotten this. "Go upstairs and left, it's the fourth door on the right. You can dry off in there. I'll bring you some stupid clothes if you shut up."

"Yay!" Antonio smiled. "I'll go now!" He promptly spun around and raced back down the hallway to the stairs. He was disappointed to leave Lovino, but he knew he'd be back in a bit, and then they could finally talk, like he'd wanted.

Ten minutes later, Antonio was pretty much dry again. The 'fourth door on the right' had turned out to be a bathroom, complete with spotless white tiles, a giant rack of towels and a bathtub bigger than most people's beds. From the looks of it, it had a jacuzzi function too, which Antonio briefly wrestled with trying out. He decided against it, though, as he really had better things to be doing.

Lovino's hand had stuck around the door a few minutes ago and chucked a set of clothes into the room, accompanied with some muffled cursing in Italian. Antonio had quickly got dressed – he was pleased to find the new shirt, trousers and trainers fitted well – and jogged down the wide staircase back to the room he'd found Lovino in earlier.

The younger teen was sat on one of the squashy sofas, absentmindedly fiddling with the fluffy leaves on his tomato cushion with pale slender fingers. More disturbingly, his face was wracked with confusion and worry, and his eyes seemed a million miles away.

Antonio couldn't help being concerned for his new friend. "Are you ok, Lovi?"

Lovino flinched and quickly reverted his face to its normal, vaguely annoyed look. "'Course I'm ok, you stupid jerk. Get your nose back in your own business."

"Are you sure? Although I don't see why you should be sad. This is kinda _heaven_ after all. Plus this place is so pretty.~"

Lovino scoffed. "Just 'cos it's heaven doesn't mean being happy is obligatory, damn it. Contrary to popular belief. And this place isn't _that_ great. You're building it up too much."

Antonio scooted up closer and wound an arm around Lovino's shoulders. To his surprise, the Italian didn't protest. "It's true, Lovi. I didn't see much of it because of the rain, but it really seems beautiful. Much like everything here~."

Lovino glared at him slightly, but drew himself up slightly and settled back against the cushions. "Maybe. Me and Feliciano used to live in a house like this back in Italy, before Grandpa died. I remember spending time here when I was little, and we came to visit Grandpa. It got sold after he died. I don't know why. I wish it hadn't though."

"I'm not surprised," Antonio smiled. "I would have given anything to have a house like this when I was a kid. It would have been so much fun. The only thing I can see wrong with it is how out of the way it is. It took me ages to find you, especially as I didn't know about this place."

"Well how was I supposed to know you were going to turn up again?" Lovino snapped. "You weren't even supposed to be here the first time, let alone return for a second one."

Hmm. Looked like Lovino still didn't know why Antonio had come here. "I know, but I don't know what I'm doing here either. Not that I'm complaining though," he laughed.

Once again, that delicate blush lit up Lovino's cheeks. "Shut up. I am." But, once again, Antonio could tell he didn't mean it.

* * *

><p>:3 This chapter was fun to write. But I had to split it into two 'cos otherwise it was gonna be waaay too long. So...to be continued *suspense music* Hehe~<p>

Oh, and 'cos I'm unlikely to update again before then, Merry Christmas to all you guys! :)


	8. Truly Heaven

"So you really know nothing about why I suddenly keep coming here?" Antonio asked, sprawled across the sofa next to Lovino . He'd asked before, but he really wanted to know and he was nothing if not persistent.

Lovino shot him another glare. "No. Stop asking. If I knew, I'd have stopped it from happening already. And as far as I know, which admittedly isn't much here, no one who's, well, _alive_, has ever come here before. That's how no one on Earth knows about what heaven is; there's only speculation."

Antonio hummed thoughtfully. "So I'm an anomaly. Unique if you will.~"

"I'll say you're unique," Lovino muttered. "I haven't met someone who's been able to annoy me as much in two meetings. Wait, scrap that. Potato jerk's got you beat on that count. You're not unique."

"Everyone's unique, Lovi," Antonio replied.

Lovino shook his head. "That is another of the stupidest things I've heard. How the hell can everyone be unique? It's...ah, what's that word? Oxymoronic. Yeah."

"Everyone is unique, you know," Antonio persisted. "Like...Gilbert's unique because of his eyes and his, er, ego. Roderich's unique because no one else can play the piano like him. Francis is unique because-"

"Because no one else spends all their time perving and molesting people," Lovino interrupted.

Antonio laughed. "That wasn't _quite_ what I was going to say. But I suppose he's unique enough in that fashion. And you're unique because of the way you're so, er, honest to everyone, and how much you like tomatoes, and you're good at football, and, of course, because you're really cute!~"

"For the last fucking time, I'm not cute, you bastard. And I'm sure I've got better things to be doing than sat on my ass talking to you about useless crap." Lovino folded his arms and gave Antonio another of his trademark glares that made his mouth crinkle at the edges and his eyes shine in the light of the candles above.

"Aw.~" Antonio smiled. "Ok. How about we go for a walk, now it's nice out? There's so much here I still haven't seen, and this house alone looks like it has some amazing grounds. Can you show me? Please?" He wasn't really meaning to plead, but he was enjoying the effect that his admiring words were having on Lovino. His face lit up in a soft, glowing blush that was only noticeable if you were looking at it, but it was a really endearing expression.

Lovino just sighed. "Fine."

"Yay!" Antonio cried, grabbing Lovino's hand and leaping to his feet. "Where shall we start? How about the grounds of the house? Or you could tell me a bit about the town and where you got the ideas for it? Or just wander around a bit, maybe? What do you think?"

"I don't know," Lovino shrugged. "It's not as if I was expecting visitors. Start at the house and work outwards? I don't care." He pulled his hand out of Antonio's and led the way down the marble hallway, which was looking much more homely and cheerful now it was brightly lit and covered in lavish decoration.

Outside, the air was filled with the refreshing smell of a recent rainfall, and the clear droplets hung from the trees and between blades of grass like hundreds of tiny crystals. Antonio breathed in the cool, sweet air and smiled as the two walked around the outside of the house, the wide, welcoming windows and imperial columns of which were now visible. The front of the house was a broad, landscaped lawn, its flawless surface dotted with sculpted hedges and bursts of colour. It seemed larger than Antonio remembered from walking through it, but that was probably just the change in light.

As they walked around to the back, where Lovino informed him that most of the grounds were located, the scenery changed from majestic and imposing to beautiful and spectacular. And, to Antonio, there was a clear difference between the two. It was as if the front was built to impress, but the rear was chosen for the beauty of the foliage themselves, to create a perfect atmosphere that was a world apart from normal life.

He almost didn't notice Lovino shrug next to him. "I've no idea what to say on stuff like this. I've never given much of a tour before. Whatever. It's not like you're anyone to impress or anything. So." He jerked a thumb back at the house. "We're not touring in there 'cos it's just a house and there's not much in there that hasn't been in a hundred other houses before, and also you said you wanted to go out, so that's what we're doing." He took a sharp breath and brought his tumbling sentence to a halt, before continuing in a more off-handed fashion. "This thing over here's a bridge, obviously. Even dumb bastards like you can see that."

Antonio followed his gaze and spotted the wooden bridge curving gently over the rippling waters of a stream. Its far end dived into a plethora of vibrant bushes, their whip-thin branches almost blocking the exit.

He stopped in the middle of it and peered over the edge, watching as his reflection peered back and locked eyes with him. Smooth pebbles winked back at him from the riverbed as the waters washed easily over them. The tiny swift shape of a red fish darted past, almost a blur.

Suddenly he noticed Lovino's reflection wasn't next to him. "Lovi?" he questioned, looking around for the now absent Italian. He hadn't abandoned him, had he? ...Had he?

"Legends say an evil troll lives under this bridge," Lovino's disembodied voice echoed from nearby. "And it eats people who dare to linger on its territory."

Antonio laughed at the younger's antics. "Oh, Lovi. There's no such thing as trolls."

There was an eerie laugh, complete with strange echo. "Oh really? Try convince yourself of that when one eats your guts!" This last sentence was shouted as Lovino flipped over the rail from where he'd been hanging under the bridge and landed heavily on Antonio's back, eliciting a surprised grunt from the Spaniard as he tried to keep his balance.

Lovino quickly slipped off and thudded to the ground in a disheveled heap. "Ow! You dropped me, bastard," he growled through panted laughs.

Antonio was about to reply, but the words died in his throat when he noticed Lovino's expression. The laughter had drawn a small smile to his face and his eyes glinted a dozen shades of gold. He looked so beautiful when he smiled. Antonio couldn't remember an instance when he'd seen Lovino smile, or even heard of it happening. He'd always been reputed as a rather grumpy character. But instantly he knew it was an expression he wanted to cause and see again.

A hand waved in front of his face. "Oi. You haven't even so much as apologised. Wake up, jerk. But not literally." Lovino jolted and sprung back, suddenly flustered. 'I mean, go ahead and do that. I don't care. Shut up, damn it."

Pulling himself to his feet, Antonio drew his laughter to a reluctant halt. "So cute. Come on, Lovi. Are we going to continue the tour?"

"Whatever." Lovino turned, deliberately avoiding Antonio's eyes and marched off the bridge and through the bushes.

A minute or two later, once Lovino had stopped glaring at random points in the distance, he started the sort-of-tour again. "So, it's mostly plants and stuff down here. Not that that's a bad thing. Plants are _manly_, damn it. 'Specially cacti. But I don't have any of those here. Yet. But what I do have is that arch. Grandpa always said it was special, but I don't know why. Never asked. Probably ought to." He pointed two curved lengths of wire looped across the path ahead, barely visible beneath the covering of an array of full-bodied roses.

"Wow,~" Antonio replied appreciatively. "Those things take ages to get to grow properly."

"Over there's the maze," Lovino continued, waving a hand at a tall border of hedge sweeping for quite some distance to their left. "We're not going in there, though, 'cos all I do in there is get hopelessly lost until I reconfigure the whole stupid thing so I can get out. Which is no fun. It's 'cos my only memories of the maze back at Grandpa's old place are of getting lost, which means I never remember the way out now. It sucks big time. Moving on. That over there's the flower garden. It's there because..." He paused and grew slightly quieter. "Feliciano really likes flowers, among other things. So it's kinda a...whatever the reverse of a memorial is, since, you know, I'm the dead one and things. Not that I...miss him or anything. You want to go in?"

"Yes!" Antonio promptly responded, keen to move the conversation away from topics that would make Lovino sad. "I love flowers!" He took the Italian's hand, only to have it quickly wrenched away, and led the way through tall shrubbery into the flower garden.

It truly did live up to its name. Flowers of all kinds bloomed in dozens of different beds across the garden, arranged artfully so the colours never clashed and the mass of different plants never looked disorganised or crowded. Daisies intertwined with delicate blue cornflowers, golden rue shimmered in the bright light, a large rhododendron bush bloomed rich in one corner, and white roses climbed their way across a network of fencing.

"It's so pretty~," Antonio said admiringly. "There's all sorts of flowers here, more than I could even try to name! You really are good at visualising brilliant heavens, Lovi! The only thing I can see missing is carnations. I like-"

"You were saying, bastard?" Lovino interrupted, pointing at a flowerbed a few feet away. In the soft soil grew bright carnations of at least five different colours, plus several combinations of multiple colours, petals wide open in a full expression of their beauty. The thing was, Antonio could have sworn that they hadn't been there the moment before.

Lovino stepped up to the plot and neatly snapped a crimson blossom off one of the stalks. With a glint in his eye, he pinned the flower on the buttonhole of Antonio's shirt. "Hah. I win this round. I have _all_ the flowers, including carnations. Lovino; 1, Tomato Bastard; 0."

The beautiful cardinal bloom stood out proudly from the soft white material. Antonio's chest suddenly felt full of high pressure. Lovino had just given him a flower, and he'd deliberately grown a whole bed full of them, just because Antonio had said he'd liked them. The Italian was showing a gentle and generous side that he hadn't known existed, although through a slightly shy and impertinent manner.

Antonio smiled, trying to tone down the euphoria running through his veins at that moment. "_Gracias,_ Lovi! I'd give you a thank-you hug, but it'd crush my new flower."

"Good. I don't want a hug," was Lovino's blunt response, before he set off through the grounds again, Antonio in pursuit, laughing.

The two continued with the tour for quite some time, before Lovino informed him that they'd exhausted the contents of the grounds, unless he wanted to get himself lost in the maze, in which case he was a stupid bastard and Lovino wasn't going to bail him out this time. Which Antonio supposed was fair enough.

So they decided to go towards the town instead. Antonio had been there before – twice in fact – but neither time had been with Lovino, and Antonio was dying to know the little inner details of Lovino's mind which shaped the world into the place that it was.

The sun shone warm, but comfortable, as the pair walked down a gravelled road towards the town. Neither of them said anything, but the silence held the same atmosphere as the golden light, and it was the same relaxed air that they'd stood in the day before. Antonio was still filled with the bright happiness he'd got ever since he'd found Lovino again, but the back of his mind was worrying about how long he'd been here, and if he was likely to wake up soon. He didn't want to wake up; it was far too nice here. Time to distract himself from those troubling thoughts, though. There was a chance that if he thought too much about it, he actually would wake up.

"Why are the roads curved?" Antonio asked. "I mean, not that I'm complaining, but if a lot of things here are based on Italy, and the Romans always built straight roads, why are these not?"

Lovino gave him an odd look. "Random question, much? Anyway, I don't see why I have to model _everything_ on the Romans. They're only a part of Italy, and besides, where are the aesthetics in a straight road when the surface of the hill is curved? No-fucking-where, that's for certain."

Antonio laughed. "You've got such a mouth, Lovi. Do you know why the Romans built straight roads?"

"Why the hell should I know such useless facts?" Lovino replied.

Antonio cracked a grin. "So their soldiers wouldn't go around the bend!" He quickly ducked as Lovino aimed a swipe at his head, which luckily was deliberately made to miss.

"If you tell any more jokes as dumb as that, you're not allowed to come here anymore."

"Aw, no!" Antonio pouted. "No more jokes, I promise! Hey, wait...allowed? You allow me here?" Had Lovino been lying earlier about knowing why he was here?

Lovino shook his head and gave a half-smirk. "Don't be a jackass all your life. It was what's known as an idle threat. I can't do sod all about you coming here, unfortunately. Otherwise you wouldn't know this place exists at all, and instead would be by yourself at home sobbing yourself to pieces about the loss of your favourite Italian."

Antonio started. How could Lovino possibly have known about the extent of his grief? Oh man, was that embarrassing. He opened his mouth to protest and perhaps, hopefully, come up with some explanation that would make him look like less of an idiot, but then caught sight of Lovino's amused expression. Oh. He was just poking fun. That was a relief.

"Very funny, Lovi," he grinned, secretly relieved. "I didn't miss you _that_ much. Although I did miss you quite a bit. But many people did, though, it wasn't just me." He was careful to stop himself here. Best not to dig himself further down the same hole he'd just escaped falling into.

Lovino just _hmmph_ed in response, his expression once again cynical, and lapsed into silence. Antonio, wishing to avoid both revisiting the subject and blurting out something stupid and the awkward silences that would follow, just went along with this until they arrived back at the town a few minutes later.

At Antonio's prompting, albeit with a glare, Lovino started talking about the place again, and this time, Antonio saw a real light in the younger's eyes and a faint edge of passion in his voice as he spoke.

It turned out there was a lot to the town that had sprung up from the depths of Lovino's subconscious. Some of it was based on places that Lovino had memories of as a child in Italy, others were somewhat from the internet, history books and guidebooks, and a few based purely on the architecture of Lovino's imagination. One thing Antonio noted as strange, though, was the large aqueduct that ran across an edge of a grassy square. Either it was his memory being slightly faulty, or the aqueduct looked somewhat like a smaller version of the one in Segovia, which was odd because that was definitely in Spain. He decided it was just him mistaking things and to forget about it. After all, Rome had plenty of aqueducts too.

Most of it was, as Antonio suspected, inspired by Italy. The fountain that he'd seen before was indeed the Trevi Fountain, or at least heaven's version of it as opposed to the actual, as were the rest of Italy's famous monuments dotted about the place. As Lovino explained, he loved the culture and architecture of his home country, but, being the lazy type, he hated the massive differences that came with visiting them, so he put them all in one town so the only travelling necessary was a short walk. The various districts of the town were inspired by Italian cities, from the canals of Venice to Renaissance-era Rome. And somehow, this patchwork of streets and buildings really worked, forming the most awe-inspiring town Antonio had known.

Yet, as they toured, Antonio couldn't help but noticing how desperately empty the place was. Save for the two of them, there was still no one around, and Antonio had deliberately been keeping half an eye out for other residents. But, still nothing.

It was on the way out of the town some time later, as they were heading across a field in the vague direction of the lake, that he decided to find out why.

"Hey, Lovi," he asked. "How come there's no one else here? If this is heaven, surely there are other dead people here? Aren't you lonely?"

Lovino shook his head. "Don't be stupid. Of course there are loadsa people here, billions have died over the years. They just aren't visible here. You know this place adjusts itself depending on a person's preferences? I don't like people much, so I don't see anyone else who's dead here. They'd just annoy me, and most people are bastards anyway. The only person I'm able to see is Grandpa. He's here too, somewhere, but he likes hanging around in places with loads of women so he can have lots of sex and drink wine and annoy Aldric and whatever else he likes to do, so I don't see him much. I don't care though. I'm used to being alone, and that's how I prefer it." He scowled defiantly and stared away at the horizon, but from the look on his face, he actually did care. A lot.

Antonio threw an arm around the other's shoulders. "Don't worry, Lovi! You don't have to be alone any more. 'Cos I'm going to come here and visit you every day! I come here when I go to sleep, so I'll be here every time that happens. I'll get to see you lots!"

"Terrific," Lovino muttered sarcastically. "Just what I need, a daily dose of annoying which appears and disappears without any sort of warning."

Antonio rubbed Lovino's shoulder with one hand. "Sorry. I'd change that if I could, Lovi. And I know I said this before, but I'm sorry I disappeared earlier too."

"Don't do that, you creep," Lovino retorted, but made no move to remove Antonio's hand. "And why should I give a damn about whether you're here or not? It's not like you ever meant anything to me."

Antonio paused, hand frozen on Lovino's shoulder. "Hey, Lovi. I never did find out earlier...why did you save me? I woke up before you were able to answer." He turned to face Lovino fully, a gentle half-smile on his face.

The Italian's hazel-gold eyes were wide and slightly panicked. "Lack of judgement," he said, all too quickly, and it was clear from the tension in his face that this was a blatant lie. Antonio just kept their gaze locked and calmly waited for an answer. Well, he hoped he looked calm. For some reason, his heart was pounding like thunder and there was an odd nervous hitch in his chest.

Lovino's look had gone from slightly panicked to full-blown 'rabbit-caught-in-headlights-I'm-about-to-die'. "_Dannazione,_" he muttered faintly, and he broke eye contact, closing his eyes and turning his head away. "I don't...you..." He paused and drew a deep breath. "Ever...ever since we met...well... You were the first person who was nice to me, who spoke to me willingly even though you knew I'm bitchy and swear all the time and pretend not to give three shits about anything. Even though we haven't spoken all that much, I...I just felt like there was some kind of connection. Like with the tomatoes, and football, and other stuff we both like. And you've been the first person who doesn't blatantly prefer Feliciano. Who doesn't always compare me to him. Who- shit, I'm rambling. What – why the fuck is this so hard to say? – what I'm trying to say is...I love you. I have for a while, but you never really seemed to notice me, and why would you ever like someone like me? But I saw that truck headed for you, and I couldn't just stand there and watch you die. So I did the only thing I could." His voice cracked and his words began to crash headfirst into one another. "And now you probably hate me and never liked me like that in the first place so now I'm just going to go and jump into the lake even though it's something like impossible for me to die again." A rebellious tear slid down one cheek as his eyes shot open and he sprinted off across the field at breakneck speed before Antonio could even register the impact of what he'd just said.

"Lovi! Lovi, wait!" Antonio yelled frantically, taking off after the speeding boy. Lovino's words had struck a chord in his heart that resonated like no other. Lovino loved him. Lovino. Loved. Him. It all made so much sense now; the stuttered words, the truck, the odd glances between classes. How long had Lovino been keeping this quiet?

The strange thing was, he didn't seem put-off or even thoughtful about this. In fact, he knew exactly where the situation was now. It was...as if the last piece of a puzzle had slid into place and the final concept had become visible with an electric thrill.

He'd built Lovino up to such a height in his head during his grief, and during these short visits, the time they'd spent together here, the time Antonio had longed to have, their second chance, he realised he now returned Lovino's feelings. He really did, and it wasn't even a surprise. He was just too clueless to notice until now. He loved Lovino Vargas.

So he _had_ to catch up with Lovino, or he'd lose him forever. The Italian knew this place well – he'd invented it, after all – so if he got away he could hide in places Antonio would never think of if he searched for a thousand years.

Overhead, a crack of thunder rolled across the sky as ominous grey clouds began to gather in suspicious groups.

Lovino was a fast runner, Antonio knew this, but his sorrow made him clumsy and he'd almost tripped several times when he wasn't paying attention to the surface. Besides, Antonio had determination on his side, and, as anyone at school knew, a determined Antonio always ended up with what he was looking for.

Soft droplets began splashing intermittently on Antonio's head as it began raining for the second time that day. It wasn't as dark as earlier, or as anywhere near as heavy, but the rain just felt so..._sad_.

It was about five hundred metres across the fields later when Antonio finally caught up, launching himself at the younger in a flying leap and sending them both tumbling heavily to the floor in a damp heap.

Lovino was making no effort to hide his tears. "Bastard," he sobbed. "Why are you chasing me? Can't you let me be miserable in peace?"

"No," Antonio replied firmly, pulling Lovino to his feet, but keeping a secure hold on his wrist so he couldn't do another runner. The Italian's hair was slightly soggy and his protruding curl was drooping past his ear.

"Let me go!" Lovino protested, pulling at Antonio's grip, which stubbornly refused to budge despite the damp caused by the gently spitting rain.

"No," Antonio repeated. "Lovino, stop that and listen to me. It's true, we may not have talked all that much before now. But your death...it made me realise what an opportunity I had missed. I grieved for you, so much, only wishing that I could have had a chance to know the one who'd sacrificed their life for mine. Then...yesterday, and especially today, the time we've spent together I wouldn't exchange for the world. You're an incredible person, and I could continue like this for hours, but everything I'm saying can be summed up in three words, which you never bothered to ask me at the end of your little confession a minute ago. _Lovino, te amo._"

Lovino blinked his tear-stained eyes, his expression frozen. "What..? Don't lie just to m-make me feel better, b-bastard."

"I'm not lying," Antonio said gently, taking Lovino's other hand so he held both in his own. "I would never dream of saying these words if I didn't mean them."

Lovino looked far from convinced. "I never should have said anything. How is this even going to work? I'm fucking _dead_, and you're turning up against all possibility for a reason neither of us know or understand. What...?" His words faded and he closed his eyes in defeat, slumping forward in his stance.

Antonio pulled him close and smiled gently, stroking his hair with one hand. "Lovi, it will work because we will make it work. I don't like the phrase because it sounds so cliché, but it seems like fate. Do you see; even death couldn't keep us apart? I'll spend my days with my friends, and my nights here with you. The best of both worlds, but I'll love the time here the most. My time with you, only you, Lovi."

Almost reluctantly, Lovino looked up, capturing Antonio's eyes with his shimmering, hypnotic hazel orbs. And slowly, hesitantly, as the sun broke through the clouds once more, he nodded and rested his head against Antonio's chest. "Damn it. I could never say no to you, bastard," he murmured quietly.

OOOOOooooooOOOOO

About half an hour later, the two were stood by the edge of the lake in the nearby valley, Antonio's fingers entwined in Lovino's after some half-hearted protesting. However, Lovino seemed slightly restless.

"What time do you normally wake up on Saturdays?" he asked, staring wistfully out over the surface of the lake, waters rippling a thousand shades of orange and gold in the fading light. The sun was beginning to dip lower and lower in the sky; how time had passed so quickly Antonio didn't know.

He sighed. "I almost wish I would never wake up, Lovi. _If I can see you only in my dreams, let me dream forever." _

"You're such a sappy bastard," Lovino scoffed. He'd quickly reverted to his normal temperament now he was happier and more reassured. Although Antonio was fairly confident that he wouldn't admit to actually being happy. It was just against his nature. But Antonio didn't mind; it meant that Lovino was truly happy if he let it show properly, and it made each beautiful smile, each melodious laugh all the more precious. "But seriously. How much longer do we have left?" Lovino blushed, back stiffening, and scowled in a futile attempt to cover it. "I mean, not that I care or anything."

Antonio laughed. "Of course not, _corazón. _I usually wake up at somewhere between eleven and noon if I have nothing to do, although if someone phones it can occasionally be earlier."

Lovino was silent, and Antonio could almost feel the waves of regret washing off him. After a few moments he said quietly, "It's ten past eleven now."

"How do you know that?" Antonio asked incredulously, trying to ignore the ever-so-slight panic that came with Lovino's proclamation. And the vague guilt that he kind of _wanted_ to leave his life behind.

Lovino tapped his watch. "Time runs the same, even here. Even though I can make it look like any time of day I wish, I can't slow down or speed up the passage of time. It's somewhat confusing, the way this place works, but I can't do anything about it."

Antonio sighed and pulled Lovino closer. "So our time could be up any minute. I guess we should say our goodbyes now, in case we don't get chance before I have to go."

"_Ciao_," Lovino answered shortly, folding his arms and turning away.

"Aw, Lovi, that's not how you say goodbye!" Antonio pouted, pulling at Lovino to try turn him back the right way.

"'Tis," Lovino replied. "_Ciao _means 'bye', jackass. How else are you meant to say goodbye?" He was wearing his patented 'Antonio is an idiot' expression again, which, despite its meaning, Antonio was growing to love.

The older Spanish teenager smiled deviously at his younger counterpart. "Like this." He put his hands around the back of Lovino's neck and pulled him into a kiss.

To Antonio's surprise, Lovino didn't push away, but wrapped his arms around Antonio's back and melted against him. It was soft, sweet, gentle, magical, almost as if they were floating. Antonio could have stayed locked that way forever, but in his heart he knew that they couldn't. It would have to wait for another time. So, very reluctantly, he pulled away after a minute and gazed into Lovino's eyes, enraptured. The Italian's eyes were half-open, dazed, but there was no denying the small smile on his face.

It was, both literally and metaphorically, heaven.

Neither of them broke the embrace, instead staying frozen there as if time had stopped, and both wishing that it would.

But it was perhaps five minutes later when the warmth of Lovino around him disappeared, much to his dismay, and the familiar pitfall swooped through his head down to his stomach as he woke up back beneath the sheets of his bed. The clock read 11:21, proving Lovino's timepiece correct.

Antonio was disappointed, there was no denying that, but also wonderfully elated, as if someone had filled his lungs with endorphin-enriched helium. The spark of happiness that had been missing from his life this past week had danced back with renewed potency, and even the springtime sunlight poking through the window seemed brighter. He really had missed a lot by not getting to know Lovino before he did. His lips tingled with the memory of their kiss.

And it was only until that night that he had to wait to see him again. It was easy to kill a weekend day. Perhaps he'd phone Gilbert and Francis and see if they wanted to do anything. Apart from _that_, thank you very much Francis.

He stretched and thought briefly about getting dressed as he swung his legs out of bed, but suddenly noticed that he wasn't wearing his pyjamas. Instead, he was still wearing the shirt and trousers that Lovino had leant him, complete with the red flower in the buttonhole. His fingers twitched around the soft petals of the carnation as he carefully detached the precious flower from the shirt and placed it on his desk as though it was made of fragile glass.

And he burst into giddy laughter as he realised his pyjamas must be still folded in the bathroom at Lovino's house. This was surefire proof that this truly was real.

* * *

><p>I like this chapter, and it's definitely one of the longer ones I've written (I couldn't bear splitting it in two again). I just saw so much opportunity for little cute fluffy moments~ But enjoy your time while you can, Lovi and Toni, 'cos I have plans still. Oh yes. *evil finger pyramid*<p>

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed. You make me a happy author. :3


	9. These Times We Spend Together

The rest of the weekend flashed past. Well, Antonio had spent at least half of it asleep, after all. He'd been reading up on techniques for getting to sleep faster. Calm music, no caffeine, no sugar, darkened rooms later in the day. It was all helping, a bit at a time. He'd fallen asleep really fast last night.

The time he'd been awake for had been spent in a much more positive frame of mind, too. He'd felt so much happier; he'd gotten a lot more done than he often would. But it was hard to put a word on how he felt overall. Well, conflicted sometimes worked. He was positive that it was definitely love, that was certain, and he'd never felt this kind of connection with someone before but...it was undeniably strange. Almost like...a make-believe boyfriend. If it wasn't for the clarity of the memories, and that he'd woken up in different clothes on Saturday, he'd think it was all his imagination. A lot of the time it felt too brilliant to be real, after all.

But there also was the hard-to-avoid fact that Lovino was dead, and existing in a world that could only be reached through dreams. A world he knew next-to-nothing about.

He would like to keep going there, though. It was a truly breathtaking place, after all. And if you added Lovino into that equation... It was a no-brainer.

Occasionally he wondered if there was a way to get there faster, more often. His body was unlikely to want to sleep more than it needed too. He frowned slightly. Perhaps sleeping pills would be an option. Not for everyday use, of course, but for when he really couldn't sleep. It wasn't fair on Lovino, after all, if he was sad just because Antonio's mind wouldn't shut itself down for ages.

No. There wasn't a need for that. Things were fine as they were – he had other stuff to be doing as well. He didn't need to spend all of his time somewhere else.

Now he needed to get going. Slinging his bag over one shoulder, Antonio headed out to school, whistling the Monday morning in for the first time in a long while.

OOOoooOOO

Lovino had quickly realised where Antonio would appear each evening, and would be waiting there on the hilltop by the time he arrived, usually with tomatoes and an flippant remark. Antonio just laughed, gave him a hug, which he'd weakly protest at, and then they'd decide on what to do that day. Or night; Antonio wasn't quite sure what to call it yet.

Most of Saturday and Sunday had been devoted to the second half of a tour, going out further than the house and the town. Lovino had produced a car from seemingly nowhere – a flash red Ferrari – and driven Antonio around the place. The Italian's driving was atrocious, and there were several points where Antonio had questioned what would happen were he to die here, but once he'd gotten used to the sharp, high-speed winds, he really was beginning to appreciate the place as a whole. It wasn't as big as he had originally expected, but that was due to a combination of Lovino not liking overly big places, and also his penchant for being lazy.

Monday night was being spent in the tomato fields, just taking care of the plants, laughing. It was quiet, calm, wonderful.

The air was still fresh and warm, a perfect Italian summer's day, and scented with the delicious aroma of the tomato plants surrounding the pair. Both were dressed in a similar outfit to how Antonio had found Lovino that first day, except that Antonio's shirt was a light shade of blue as opposed to Lovino's white, slightly damp with sweat from the several hours they'd already spent working in the sun.

Antonio ran a hand through his messy brown curls and let out a long breath. "Hey, Lovi. You wanna take a break? I wouldn't mind getting out of the sun for five or ten minutes. I know you won't burn, but I don't know if I will or not. I'd rather not wake up looking like a lobster."

"Get a hat then, bastard," was Lovino's prompt response from the depths of the tomatoes. He was currently out of Antonio's sight, although the intermittent rustling of disturbed leaves easily gave away his presence.

Antonio laughed. "Lovi! You're the one who's able to produce hats, not me!"

"Whatever. You go sit then, I'll be there in a sec." There was a noticeable increase in rustling for a second, then Lovino's head appeared, followed by a basket of tomatoes. He looked at Antonio. "Well, go on then."

With another laugh, Antonio looked away and headed across the field, settling down a few feet up the hill beneath a tree. The shade was cool and refreshing, like a lemon slice in an iced drink, and Antonio closed his eyes for a moment in bliss. After a second Lovino joined him, brushing odd plant fronds off of his tan shorts. He knocked back his hat and rested against the tree.

"Those tomatoes are lucky they're so delicious," Lovino muttered. "If they weren't, I wouldn't bother putting in this fuckload of work for them."

"You do know you don't have to, right?" Antonio asked. "This is your world, you could just produce the tomatoes from out of the air."

Lovino gave him a sharp look. "Shut. Up. Bastard." Antonio was momentarily offended, then realised what Lovino's expression really meant; he actually did like the work, the dedication that went into producing the tomatoes which made them taste that much better. And apparently he also liked complaining about the work.

A short slurping noise caught Antonio's attention and he turned to see Lovino with a glass of ice-cold lemonade in one hand. "Hey, Lovi, no fair! Where's mine?"

Lovino sucked another mouthful up the straw. "Didn't ask for one."

"Can I have one?"

"Nope," Lovino smirked and tucked his free hand behind his head.

"Aw, Lovi! Please?" Antonio tried giving Lovino the sweet pleading eyes, but it appeared that Lovino was temporarily immune to the look.

"Tough, bastard. Don't see why I should, anyway."

Antonio smiled and leant closer, so their faces were only inches apart. " Because I asked my beautiful and amazing Lovi that he should be so kind as to do so." Lovino's hazel eyes were wide in surprise, and a light blush had flared up across his face.

"B-bastard..." he stuttered. Antonio gently planted a short kiss on his lips and brought a hand up to cup the Italian's face.

"So cute, Lovi~," he murmured, kissing Lovino again, this time much deeper and for longer. Antonio slid an arm around Lovino's back, and a second later felt Lovino's hands clasped around the back of his neck as the two pressed closer.

When they broke apart again, Lovino really did bear a resemblance to the pair's favourite food. "Damn you. You made me drop my stupid drink."

Antonio laughed. "I love you too, Lovi."

"Stupid jerk. Here's your damn lemonade so you can stop molesting me now." He shoved a glassful of clear liquid into Antonio's hands and shuffled a foot further away, glaring into his lap with his face obscured beneath his chocolate-brown locks. His own drink had reappeared next to him, complete with refill.

The wind whistled gently through the field of laden plants as the two sat sipping their drinks in tranquil silence. The lemonade was delicious; tangy and refreshing like a homemade style, but with just enough carbonated bubbles to give it an edge. Before he knew it, Antonio's glass was empty, and it promptly vanished from his hands. Antonio smiled to himself. No waste, no litter. Efficient place.

"They put up your memorial tomorrow, Francis told me," Antonio said after a while. "At the school. It's going to be next to the field."

Lovino was quiet for a moment, his eyes unsure. "Hmm." He coughed. "So they're finally putting up a statue to me, are they? 'Bout damn time."

Antonio laughed again. "Not quite a statue, unfortunately. I don't think the school could afford that. It's a tree, a laurel, I think, and a little memorial plaque with a message that Feliciano wrote."

As had been the situation the day before, Lovino grew silent again at the mention of his brother. Antonio shifted closer and slipped an arm around his shoulders.

"You miss him, don't you, Lovi?" he said quietly.

"No. Of course not. Shut up. Hate you." Lovino shifted slightly, blinking fast.

Antonio now felt slightly guilty for bringing the topic up. "_Lo siento_, Lovi. I didn't mean to make you upset."

"Not upset," Lovino choked, his voice cracking, and Antonio felt his heart crack along with it. He swiftly pulled the younger into a close hug and gently stroked his hair. Lovino gave a short growl and tried pushing away, but quickly gave up his facade and buried his face in the crook between Antonio's neck and shoulder.

Slowly, the Italian's shoulders stopped trembling as Antonio held him close, and he eventually, to Antonio's disappointment, pulled away and shifted back to his previous position against the tree. Antonio gave him a concerned smile and settled next to him, not wishing to break the silence.

Content with just watching the world.

A quiet voice floated through the air a few minutes later. "Is Feliciano ok?" It was a tentative question, almost as if Lovino was afraid of it, or perhaps its answer.

Antonio thought for a moment, debating the right thing to say, as to tell the truth, but not upset Lovino. "Well, he's been undeniably distraught following, you know, your death. You were the only family he had left, after all, and he really misses you. Even after this time its hard to get him to smile, but he's slowly coming to terms with it, I think. Ludwig's been taking really good care of him."

Lovino grunted disapprovingly. "Potato bastard."

Antonio laughed. "I know you think that, Lovi, but he's not really a bad guy. He really cares for your brother, after all."

Another dismissive grunt. "Whatever. You just tell him that if he hurts Feli, I'll kick his ass so hard into next week he'll be waking up in November."

"I can't tell him that, Lovi!" Antonio protested.

"Fine then," Lovino huffed. "_You'll_ kick his ass into next week."

"Me? Why do I have to threaten him when he hasn't done anything?"

"'Cos I said so, damn it!" Lovino retorted immediately.

Antonio smiled suggestively. "Ah, of course. I can't go against what _mi Lovinito_ requests of me," he breathed as he leant closer and pressed his lips to Lovino's.

"_Bastard!_"

* * *

><p>Half fluff, half semi-angst-ish. Yay~. I was up 'till half one the other night writing this and chapter 10. I regret nothing.<br>Basically, this chap and maybe the next are the setup for my plot development. Watch this space.

Once again, thanks to everyone who's reviewed~ :)


	10. We Have A Problem

With a yawn, Antonio blinked into the bright light of his room. It was becoming a familiar sensation; the sharp swooping sensation in his stomach, the momentary dreamlike state of confusion, the crushing disappointment and then the final dullness of acceptance. He'd been visiting Lovino for about a month now and had settled himself into a routine that maximised the time that he got to see Lovino for. It mostly involved sleeping all the time, and racing through everything else in order to do so. He was getting twelve hours a night on average, up to eighteen or nineteen on weekends. So much time, all to spend with his precious Lovino, just the two of them. It was beautiful.

School was now pretty much a waste of time, even more so than most people thought it was. Admittedly, time spent with Gilbert and Francis was as amusing as ever, but Antonio couldn't completely block the pang of loneliness that always appeared when he wasn't with Lovino, and a lot of the time, he wasn't with the other two anyway. It was even worse in classes; he spent most of the time staring out of the window waiting for the clock to shift its hands at a pace faster than a lethargic snail.

As soon as it did, he swiftly walked home, raced through his homework (so there was no reason for him to get detentions for not doing it and lose precious time), made and ate a meal, then switched clothes and curled up somewhere to go to sleep. It was rarely later than six o'clock that he was finished, and he was never up later than seven. A couple of sleeping pills helped with that, if he took a long time to get off.

Weekends were a bit different, but that was because he got the chance to sleep in until about two in the afternoon. He usually did some washing after that, to make sure he had enough clothes for the rest of the week, then went to the store for the week's provisions, checked everything else was ok, ate some food, then back to his heavenly dream-state. This time generally couldn't come fast enough, but this was really where the Ambien and Eszopiclone were paying for themselves.

OOOoooOOO

"Psst, Toni! What'd you get for 4b?"

Antonio glanced up from his work and locked his gaze with Gilbert's piercing red eyes. "Haven't done that one yet, Gil." He probably should have by now, with it being halfway through the lesson, but Antonio really couldn't be bothered with long sheets of pointless, repetitive questions at the moment.

Gilbert stuck out his tongue. "Aw, man. Franny, what'd you get?"

The blond, sat opposite, fixed Gilbert with a suspicious look. "Have you actually done the question, Gilbert, or is this a trick to get the answer without doing any work?"

"Kesese! Of course I've done it! I want to compare answers." Antonio hid a grin as he spotted Gilbert's arm coincidentally covering his paper.

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then what did you get?"

"Huh? I'm not telling you. What happens if you're trying to pull that trick on me in reverse? I'm not giving you my awesome answer for you to steal! Kese...oh fuck you, Francis." Gilbert scowled and flopped onto the table, glaring at Francis between folded arms. "The awesome president of awesome doesn't need to do work."

"That would work," Francis admitted, "were you actually the council president. The election's on Friday."

"I already won by default," Gilbert pouted. "'Cos I'm awesome. I'm ahead in the polls anyway, so screw you."

"Don't count your chickens, Gil. All sorts of strange things can happen," Antonio muttered absent-mindedly, tapping his pencil against his fingers.

Francis frowned. "What sort of 'strange things', Antoine?"

Antonio blinked. He hadn't meant to say that aloud. Unexpected things meant Lovino, and he couldn't really tell his friends about that. Not yet at any rate. "Ah, nothing specific. It's an expression." Oh damn. He hadn't meant to sound defensive.

"I don't own any chickens," Gilbert interjected. "My little buddy here isn't a chicken." There was a muffled 'cheep' of agreement from inside his bag at this.

"Beilschmidt! Carriedo! Bonnefoy! Stop talking and get back to work!" a crisp voice interrupted them. Antonio glanced up and spotted his teacher stood at the front of the class, brandishing a ruler and a peeved expression. He quickly apologised and ducked his head back down to face his paper.

He didn't notice Gilbert and Francis exchange concerned glances next to him.

OOOoooOOO

Antonio crossed the green between the North and West blocks, glad to get out of the mind-numbing lesson he'd just been sat in for the best part of an hour. He'd nearly fallen asleep and, as nice as that would be, it wouldn't have been the greatest idea in the middle of class. Might be an idea to keep an eye on himself for a bit. He couldn't be too careful.

"Ve~," a familiar voice sounded behind him. "Big Brother Antonio?"

Antonio turned and spotted the auburn-haired Italian. "Hi, Feliciano. How are you?"

Feliciano braved an attempt at a smile. "I'm getting better, I think, thank you~. I was wondering – could you help me out with my homework tonight? I was at music practice instead of the maths lesson yesterday and I don't know how to do the homework. I was hoping you or Kiku could help me with it, 'cos Ludi's got cadets on Tuesday evenings, and since I can't find Kiku, I was wondering if you were free tonight?"

Hmm. Tonight...that wasn't good. He'd promised Lovino he'd show up before a particular time every day and Lovino got really mad if he was late without any prior warning. And, cute as Lovino was when he got mad, Antonio didn't much like being the direction or cause of his anger and sadness.

"I'm really sorry, Feli, but tonight's not good. I can do tomorrow, though."

Feliciano shook his head as his face fell. "The homework's in for tomorrow. I need to do it tonight. Are you sure you aren't able to help?"

Antonio bit his lip. It felt awful to disappoint Feliciano, but he really didn't want to upset his brother. "I'm sorry, Feli, I really am. I just can't do tonight at such short notice. But, if it's maths, you're probably better off asking Kiku anyway."

"Ve~," Feliciano sighed in dismay. "I'll go look for Kiku, then. Thanks anyway. Bye-bye, Toni." He ran off towards the buildings behind him, homework folder clutched in one arm.

OOOoooOOO

Gilbert was sprawled out across his sofa later that evening with a can of beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other, laughing loudly at the old sitcom episode blaring from the sound system. He was lazily content; there was nothing to do but loaf around the house all evening doing whatever the hell he felt like. Ludwig had wisely made himself scarce a while back and gone up to his bedroom with a quiet 'I've got work to do', so Gilbert didn't even have him nagging about having his feet on the sofa, or leaving rubbish on the floor. Ah, _Glückseligkeit_.

He was just about to make the perilous decision whether or not he could be bothered to go into the kitchen to find some food, when his phone buzzed with a short jingle from 'I'm Sexy And I Know It'. With some difficulty, he retrieved it from his pocket to see the screen informing him he had a text from Francis.

**[Come to my house now. V urgent. Love Francis] **

Gilbert sighed. _If that guy thinks I'm gonna just get up and go have sex with him at the drop of a hat, he can think again. The awesome me is not moving for that. Wouldn't do so anyway, in fact, even if it _was_ urgent. _He was about to switch the phone off when it buzzed again.

**[Apologies if that was misleading. It's about Antonio - Feli and I have been discussing things. Need to talk soon as poss.] **

Now this was a different matter altogether. Antonio had been acting increasingly strangely lately, and Gilbert was rather worried for his friend. And it looked like Francis was going to try do something about it. May as well join in. He immediately tapped back a reply and pulled himself up off the sofa, killing the TV with his spare hand.

"West!" he shouted upstairs while searching for his shoes in the hall cupboard. "I'm goin' out to Franny's! Back later!" A quiet call back indicated that Ludwig had heard.

A short car ride later, Gilbert was outside the door to Francis' house. To his surprise, the door was answered by Feliciano, who was still in his school uniform.

"Ve~. Hiya Gil! Big Brother Francis said you were on your way. Come in, come in!" He stepped back and Gilbert followed him into Francis' living room.

Francis was spread across a chaise longue with a glass of wine in one hand and half his shirt buttons undone, but then that was completely normal for Francis. He waved his free hand in greeting and motioned for Gilbert to sit down.

"_Bonjour. _Sorry it's a bit on the late side, but Feli approached me earlier and we agreed we needed to talk about this sooner as opposed to later."

"Ve~," Feliciano agreed, as Gilbert sat down next to him, sinking into the plush white leather of the sofa. "I'm really worried about Toni, he was acting completely out of character earlier, and from the sounds of it you guys are too." He wore an uncharacteristically sombre and worried expression.

Gilbert nodded. "Agreed. We have a problem."

* * *

><p><em>Glückseligkeit<em> _– _bliss

Just to clarify, there's time-gap between this and the previous chapter of about a month.  
>This chapter was hard to write...to the point that the succeeding chapter was almost complete before this was halfway. Dunno when I'll get it done, though. School starts again on Tuesday. It suuuucks. *gripe gripe dread*<br>I felt awful at some points in this...I've wanted to hug Feli so much during this fic...need to find a way to make him happy later on to make up for it~


	11. Frightful Doubts

Antonio whistled as he chased various paella ingredients around a pan. Tonight he was going to try an experiment – to see if he could get things from his world to Lovino's and back. He was pretty sure that he could; the carnation that Lovino had given him had survived the return journey at the very least, and he could remember having his phone with him on the very first try, but he was certain there were going to be limitations somewhere. It'd be useful to find out. Maybe he could even ferry messages between the two brothers; he knew they missed each other deeply. It'd be great to cheer them both up by re-establishing contact. Plus, if he could take things, he could buy Lovino gifts! Lovino had already shared so much with him, it was about time he gave something in return. Not to mention that the Italian's blushing embarrassed face was pretty much the most adorable thing in existence.

The abrupt chime of the doorbell pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned down the heat on the pan to go answer it. _Who's that going to be? I'm not expecting visitors tonight. _

"INTERVENTION!" came a loud chorus as soon as Antonio pulled the door back. Standing on the doorstep were Gilbert, Francis and Feliciano, all with identically serious expressions.

"What?" exclaimed Antonio, completely mystified. Why did he need to take part in an intervention? He wasn't addicted to drugs or alcohol, or have any behaviour problems. Or any problems at all, in fact. Life was pretty great.

Francis took his arm and, without prompting, led him into his own living room. "_Mon cher_, it has come to our attention that you have been...acting rather strangely lately. You're always distracted, mind a-wander, in a world of your own."

"Yeah, and you never want to hang out with us outside of school anymore," Gilbert interjected, jumping onto an armchair.

Feliciano nodded. "Ve~. We're your friends, Toni. If there's something wrong, we want to help you. Whatever it is, you can tell us."

Antonio sat down and faced the other three. "There's nothing wrong, you guys. I appreciate the concern, but I'm completely fine. I couldn't be happier, in fact." He was torn between annoyance at the delay, and fear at his friends finding out. It was unlikely they'd believe him if he didn't explain properly, let alone understand. They'd think he'd gone mad.

"No, man," Gilbert countered. "You spend all your time _asleep_, of all things. I wandered into your house last week, 'cos I rang on the door but you didn't answer and I needed to borrow your maths homework, and when I went in you were passed out in bed. You didn't wake up even when I shouted at you. There were a buncha sleeping pills on your bedside cabinet too. That's not healthy, Tonio. People don't need ta sleep that much. It was seven in the evening."

"You've lost all interest in school, too," Francis continued. "I've seen a couple of your tests recently, and your grades have dropped enormously. And you had dreams; leaving school with top grades and going to university. So many plans, so much effort, and now you've inexplicably forgotten it all. What has brought you to such a conclusion?"

"Guys, guys, I'm fine, honestly," Antonio said hurriedly, raising his hands in defense. "I just decided not to worry about things and just let life take its course for the moment. It's a relaxation thing; just chill for a bit and take the stress off."

"_Kühscheiße_," Gilbert said definitely. "C'mon. We know you better than that. There's something up, something that makes you just want to sleep and nothing else. What's up?"

"Ve~. Please, Antonio, tell us. We've been really worried about you, and we just want to help. Please?" Oh dear. Feliciano was giving him the heart-wrenching pleading eyes, and there wasn't a granite-hearted soul in the world that could resist those. If you did, you would just end up hating yourself, feeling soulless and evil as the younger Italian burst into pitiful tears. Antonio could feel his resolve fading just looking at that face.

He sighed. "Ok. But it's not going to be easy for you guys to hear. You probably won't believe me, but please listen."

"That's what we're here for, man," Gilbert grinned supportively. "Go on."

Antonio took a deep breath, unsure of whether this was the right place to begin. "Do you guys believe in heaven?"

"Yes!" Feliciano smiled instantly. "It's a great place that you go to after you die if you've been good! But what's this got to do with you being asleep all the time?"

"Everything," Antonio continued. "Because, in my dreams...that's where I go. I've been waking up there every time I go to sleep. It's been happening for about a month or so now, every single night."

Francis, Feliciano and Gilbert stared at him, mouths agape. It was obvious that they didn't believe him – he was fast running out of time before they declared him mad.

"It's true, please believe me. I know it's real, I have proof, and I know it's heaven because, Feli...I met your brother there."

Feliciano looked like someone had just shattered his heart, his breathing fast and shallow. "Fratello..." he whispered, tears welling in his wide golden eyes.

"Antonio," Francis began severely.

"Wait, please!" Antonio interrupted him. "I'm not lying, I swear. I've really met him. Every night, in fact. We've become really close. He really likes tomatoes, and he kinda swears a lot, but he's really sweet inside. I've spent so much time with him recently. He showed me around the house where you guys lived as kids, Feli. He really misses you, too, and-"

A loud sob punctuated his sentence, as Feliciano burst into tears, curling up in a ball on the sofa and burying his distraught face in a cushion. Francis shot Antonio a dark look and scooted up the cushions, wrapping his arms around the younger boy. "Don't you _dare_ bring his brother into this, Antonio. Poor Feli's having trouble enough dealing with this without you making things worse."

"But it's true, Francis!" Antonio protested.

"Stop it!" Gilbert shouted. "Antonio, you delusional bastard, either tell the fucking truth or we're gonna have to get serious. Feli's suffered enough without you bringing his brother in as a sympathy vote for your fantasies." His German accent thickened as his voice rose in volume, and with his red eyes flaring, it was rather intimidating.

But Antonio wouldn't, _couldn't_, be deterred. "It's not fantasy, Gilbert, it's all true. I've really met Lovi, and spoken to him. I wouldn't play with Feli like that, I swear. But it's ok, because Feli doesn't need to be sad anymore. Since I can talk to Lovi, I might be able to take messages between the two, so they can still-" Gilbert's hand clapped firmly down on his mouth and pinned him against the wall, the Prussian's spare hand grabbing both of Antonio's slim wrists and wrenching them into a lock.

The silver-haired teenager's voice was deadly calm and serious, taut as stretched elastic. "Franny, get Feli's mobile and call West up, tell him to come here immediately. He's the only one who can calm Feli down in this sorta state; I've seen it a couple times." He shot Antonio a dirty look, then directed his attention back to the sobbing Feliciano, who was deaf to the world and trembling violently in Francis' arms as the older boy fiddled with his phone.

Antonio was desperately trying to keep calm; only the fact that Gilbert was his friend kept Antonio from flattening him. That and, if he turned violent, no one would listen to what he had to say and he _needed _them to believe him. They'd think he was mad otherwise, and would force him into therapy. No, they wouldn't do that, would they? They were friends, right? Then again, friends didn't pin friends to the wall and yell at them instead of listening to them in a rational manner.

The doorbell's inappropriately bright sound cut through his thoughts like a dagger and Antonio refocused on the world as Ludwig walked into the room, his face pale and hair unkempt, like he'd got here in a rush.

"Feliciano..." he breathed, crouching next to the younger Italian and laying a hand gently on his face. "_Gott_...I've never seen him this bad. Feliciano, can you hear me? It's me, it's Ludwig. Come on, come back to us. Listen to me. You're alright, Feliciano."

A couple of minutes of comforting murmurs later, Feliciano slowly opened his watery eyes and blinked uncertainly. "Ludi..?"

Ludwig sighed in relief. "_Danke Gott._" Whatever he was about to say next, however, was cut off by Feliciano diving off the sofa at him and burying his face in his chest. Ludwig carefully picked him up and sat down on back on the sofa, Feliciano now curled in his lap. He kept one hand protectively around his boyfriend's head and after a moment indicated with the other for Gilbert to let Antonio go.

"You three. Explain. Now." His voice was like a knife edge and Antonio could swear that the shadows of the room got darker.

But now he needed to concentrate. Every word would count as, with Ludwig, Antonio would only get one chance at explaining. It would be a fair chance, but a solo chance nonetheless.

He took a deep breath. "Every night, when I go to sleep, I wake up in another world. I don't know why. It's a bit like a gateway. And, that world, it's heaven. _The_ Heaven, the one where you go after you die. And I met Lovino there, it's where he is now." Antonio saw Ludwig's facial muscles taut, and his voice faltered slightly, but he couldn't stop now. "Every night I wake up there and he's waiting for me. We've become really close friends, well, more than friends actually, but he is the reason I spend so much time asleep, because I can see him there. But they're not just dreams, it's completely real. It's fully focused, in full colour and all five senses and real time and everything. And it's a beautiful place, like the most brilliant place you've ever been to, and it's all Lovi's heaven and I've been there." He stopped before he began repeating himself and faced Ludwig, holding his breath for a decision.

Ludwig was silent for a moment, processing Antonio's words. After a moment, he re-opened his sky-blue eyes and faced the other three. "Antonio, I believe what you are experiencing is a phenomenon known as lucid dreaming. It is where the dreamer is aware of their unconscious state and can hence control the situation they are in. You are dreaming this way as a result of the guilt you have been experiencing because of Lovino saving your life and losing his own by doing so, so you have created a perfect world where the two of you are happy. Unfortunately it is not real; it merely seems real because of the vivid detail of the dreams. You must realise that everything you have experienced in this 'heaven' is all a product of your own imagination and is not another world. There are no such things as other world. You have no contact with Lovino – he is dead and there is sadly nothing that we can do about that."

Antonio shook his head. "Nonono. Lovi is real – I've spoken to him."

"Your description is indeed accurate, I'll give you that," Ludwig replied. "But you did know Lovino in real life, and any perception of him that you have in your dreams is merely a residue of your memories."

"No, it's not! I can prove it, I'll show you!" Without waiting for a reply, Antonio spun around and tore up the stairs. He could sense the panic rising in his veins and practically feel the straitjacket they would force on him. Time was running out, and quickly.

The carnation, where was it? He raced across the room and scrutinized the desk, watching among the dullness of papers, pens and clutter for a flash of brilliant red.

Nothing. The place where it had stood just that morning was empty, with no evidence that it had even been there. Antonio bit his lip. _Fuck! _This wasn't happening! It must have fallen on the floor. He dropped to his knees, hands scouring the surface. He'd tear up the carpet if he had to.

"Antonio?" Francis' voice called uncertainly up the stairs.

"I'm looking! It was here a minute ago, I swear!" Antonio yelled back, panic more than evident in his voice.

Ok, it wasn't here. That was...that was fine. There were the clothes, they'd come back too. And his shirt with the ripped sleeve. And a shiny rock he'd found at the lake. Plenty of evidence. They would be convinced, they had to be.

A minute later, he raced back downstairs with the two shirts – he couldn't find the rock, it was probably in the kitchen – and skidded to a halt in the front room, panting hard.

"Shirts?" Gilbert said in disbelief. "Your proof is _shirts_?"

Antonio brandished them. "Not just shirts, Gil. Look, this one's got a rip in the sleeve. I fell asleep in it, and woke up in Lovino's world for the first time, and my shirt got ripped on a plant there, and when I woke up it was ripped in real life. And, and this other shirt, Lovino gave me that in his world. I got changed there and when I woke up for real I was wearing it here too. It had come back with me because I was...wearing...it..." His voice petered out at the blatant looks of disbelief he was receiving. "You guys don't believe me...do you?" He didn't blame them. He could hear himself – he sounded like a madman.

Francis gave him a sympathetic look and reached out a hand. "_Mon cher_-"

"No!" Antonio slapped the hand away and glared fiercely, his eyes stinging in readiness for rebellious tears. "Don't give me that, Francis! You guys aren't giving me a chance. You came here convinced I was mad and nothing I am saying is making you think otherwise because you're too set in your opinions! This is real! I know it seems like dreams, and I thought it was at first, but it's not, it's really not! I've met Lovino and I love him! And if you're not going to believe me, you may as well get out of my house, because I'm not going to stand here and let you force me into therapy I don't need! Get out! Now!" The tears rushed to bursting point and spilled over, streaking down his face as he pushed his friends, no _former_ friends, towards the door.

"The fuck-" Gilbert started, his hands curling into fists, but Ludwig placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a sharp look. The elder brother growled, but relented and let himself be prodded out of the house. Just as well, really. Antonio was pretty much ready to throttle someone at this point.

"Please, Antonio," Feliciano pleaded, trying to reach back into the house. "We just-" But his words were cut off by the door slamming heavily shut, a cloud of dust released from the ceiling by the sheer force.

Antonio quickly locked the door and collapsed against it, utterly drained. They were his friends. He'd truly thought they'd believe him; didn't they trust him? It was betrayal, nothing less than that, and he felt sick to his stomach by it. It stabbed hard, right in his chest, and left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was awful.

Having lost all appetite, he went back into the kitchen and turned off the stove – the paella was burned beyond recognition anyway and he had no desire for anything that resembled Arthur's cooking.

But Ludwig's words were branded into his mind. Could it have just been his imagination after all? The carnation was still missing and – though it pained him to think it – his shirt could have gotten ripped somewhere else. Was he really deluded? For the first time in a month, he was truly scared that he wouldn't wake up in Lovino's world once he fell asleep.

OOOoooOOO

Yet the bright light of the sun caressed his eyelids as usual and he opened them to the familiar sight of the hill where he always woke up.

But he felt no happiness upon realisation, only deeper panic.

"You're late, bastard," came Lovino's voice from nearby. He was sat a few feet away, chewing on one of his tomatoes with a pissed-off expression.

Antonio brushed the slur aside and scrambled across to the other, clutching at his shirt as if it was about to fade away. "Lovi, tell me, please. Is this real?"

Lovino looked confused. "Real? I should fucking well hope so. What are you deluding yourself about this time? Thought you'd have been convinced by now." His slim fingers detached Antonio's from his now creased shirt, but didn't let go entirely. It was clear he could read Antonio's feelings and wanted to convey some form of comfort.

"Everyone thinks that I'm imagining this!" Antonio blurted, staring desperately at Lovino.

Lovino's jaw dropped. "The hell? You _told_ them?"

Antonio nodded uneasily. "I had to. They think I'm sleeping too much and acting weird, so they staged an intervention to try help me."

Lovino growled low in his throat. "Bastards. So they know now? How much did you tell them?"

"Everything, more or less," Antonio admitted. "I had to."

"Hmm." Lovino was silent for a moment, his cheeks tinged with red. "What did they say?"

"Well, Francis flat out didn't believe me, Gilbert got mad and pinned me to the wall, and Feliciano got really upset."

"He would, if you'd mentioned me," Lovino muttered. "He's what you'd call the sensitive type. He cries if I come home ten minutes late, so I highly doubt he's taken my death well."

"Not really..." Antonio sighed. "Then Francis called Ludwig over, so I had to explain again, and he says I'm lucid dreaming, and this is all a guilt-induced fantasy."

Lovino spat vehemently. "He's a potato bastard, you aren't supposed to listen to what he says. Every word he says is a load of shite, and he'd disown anything to do with me, so no wonder that he's telling you you're imagining things."

"But the carnation, the one you gave me a while back, it was gone! I couldn't find it at all! And perhaps I was imagining one of my shirts being the one you gave me here. It could be all a dream! I don't want it to be a dream!" His voice cracked mid-sentence and he winced inwardly at the weakness.

"It's not, idiot!" Lovino growled. "Don't listen to the stupid potato bastard, damn it!"

"But it makes sense, what he's saying, scientifically that is. And he's right about a lot of stuff. What about this too?"

Lovino was clearly insulted. "You're believing the potato sucker over me? The fuck? Seriously, d'you think you could imagine this place? The monuments you've never seen? My history? My _personality_? He's talking bullshit." He took Antonio by the shoulders, surprising the older boy slightly at the voluntary contact and the pure emotion in his voice. "Listen. This. Is. Real. And don't doubt it, or I'll get really pissed off."

Antonio tried to force a smile, pulling Lovino close into a hug. "I know. I'm sorry, Lovi. It's just hard to believe things when all your closest friends, including your boyfriend's brother, don't believe you." He closed his eyes and leant his head on Lovino's shoulder, trying to fight the fear.

Lovino hummed thoughtfully. "Feliciano..." He snapped his fingers and pulled out of Antonio's grip. "You leave Feliciano to me." Waving a hand in the air, he produced a piece of paper and a pencil and began to jot something down.

"What's that?" Antonio asked, trying to peer around at it, but Lovino swatted him away and kept writing. A minute or so of silence and pencil-biting later, he folded the paper in two and handed it to Antonio.

"Give this to Feli, tell him it's from me. Don't read it. He'll know what it means." His face was impassive, but Antonio could instantly tell what it meant. The letter contained a secret message that Feliciano would know was from Lovino and Lovino alone, something no one else could have come up with.

He sprung at the Italian in a hug and a wave of gratitude. "Thank you, Lovi!"

Lovino merely grunted in response. "Don't get your hopes up too much. Feli's gullible, so Potato Jerk won't take his acceptance as law instantly. You've still got a bit of explaining to do."

Antonio smiled and snuggled closer to him. "I know, I know. But if I've got Feli on my side, I'll be alright. Your note will see to that. _Gracias, querido._"

_Unless it's all still a dream and the note won't be there when you wake up, _his doubtful side remarked, but Antonio pushed those thoughts aside desperately. Thinking like that would just make everything worse.

* * *

><p>Not much to say on this chapter. Not sure why. I'm probably just tired. Damn you, exams. I hate you so much.<br>Is it real? Or is it all actually a figment of Antonio's active imagination? Dun dun duuuuun! Have to wait and see.

I seem to be doing a lot of writing lately...it's like every evening. Not that that's a bad thing; I just have half a dozen random unpublished ideas hanging around on my hard drive. Dunno if I'll ever do anything with them tbh. Probably will eventually, if only to give me the motivation to continue them. Oy vey... *headdesk*


	12. Letters Bring Revelations

The next morning, Antonio was woken not by his alarm, but by the insistent tones of his mobile phone. Blearily, he blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering who would be texting him so early. Still with his eyes closed, he scrabbled around on his bedside table for his phone, locating it on the third haphazard grasp. Having already hit the screen by accident, the message was open across it as he lifted the device closer to read it.

**[Toni! Im really sorry about yesterday! I didnt want Ludi and everyone to be mad at you! But you are coming to school today arent you? Please! :)] **

Still groggy, Antonio wondered why Feliciano – for it was obviously he who sent it – thought he wasn't coming into school. He wasn't pleased about it, sure, but he was fully intending on going.

Then he spotted the display at the top, with the time reading 08:21. That woke him up faster than a bucket of ice water, and he leapt to his feet in a panic. Damn it! The delay in going to sleep meant that the pills had kept him asleep for longer than he'd meant to. He practically tore off the T-shirt and shorts he'd slept in and snatched up his uniform off the floor. He really was going to be late; school started in ten minutes and it took him twenty to run there full pelt, and he wasn't even dressed yet!

Well, if he was going to be late, he may as well be later and hygienic. He leapt into the shower and blasted himself quickly with the nozzle, back arching at the freezing water's painful grip. After speedily rubbing himself with a towel, he scrambled into his uniform and sprinted downstairs to find his bag, almost crashing down the stairs in his haste.

As he raced down his driveway two minutes later with a crooked tie, damp hair chilling his head in the cool air, he hurriedly texted Feliciano back.

**[Thanks for texting! I overslept! Please tel Francis or Gil to make excuse for me! Be there in a bite! :)] **

XxxxX

Antonio pelted down the corridor, painfully aware of the deserted area around him and the loud echoes of his footsteps off the bare magnolia walls. Panting hard, he almost slammed into the door to his destination, and stumbled into class almost fifteen minutes after the bell with a breathless "Sorry I'm late!".

The entire class looked up to stare at him like he'd grown an extra head since yesterday.

His teacher turned around, one eyebrow raised, but her expression passive. "Ah, Mr. Carriedo. So nice of you to join us. Gilbert informed me that you'd be a bit delayed. Take your seat and try to catch up with where we are." She turned back to the board and carried on writing up notes for the class to copy.

Relieved at his escape, Antonio collapsed into his seat next to Gilbert and mouthed a quick "Thank you" at his friend. Gilbert just grinned and winked at him. He obviously didn't hold a grudge for the previous evening, for which Antonio was enormously grateful.

Wanting to keep a low profile in the silent classroom, he bent his head over his work and scribbled down the notes he'd missed until the teacher assigned them questions out of the textbook twenty minutes later and he could look up.

Gilbert smirked at him from the seat next door and prodded him in the arm. "You owe me one, man. The awesome me told her there'd been a roadblock near your house and you had to go the long way 'round. Awesome excuse or what? Didn't even get you detention."

Antonio laughed. "Only you would have had so much practice at coming up with excuses for being late, Gil. But thanks. My alarm didn't wake me up this morning and I thought I was completely screwed."

"Heh. Not always a good idea to sleep, huh, Toni?" That was Gilbert; tactful to a fault.

Antonio sighed. "I guess. Hey, I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. I guess I kinda overreacted a bit."

"No worries, man, it's cool. We're just lookin' out for ya, ya know? Probably still would be a good idea to sort it out and stuff, but I think we just went about it the wrong way and stuff. Plus West's completely tactless and shit."

"Yeah, _Ludwig's_ tactless," Antonio laughed, more out of relief than anything.

"Shut up, Toni," Gilbert grinned, bouncing his rubber off Antonio's head. "I'm not the mad one here."

"My point proven," Antonio replied, handing Gilbert back his eraser. "And I'm not mad, either. I've got to talk to you guys about that, by the way. Not now; I don't really want to go through it twice. And we're in the middle of class too, so that's probably not a good idea. But yeah, if we can find everyone I'll tell you at lunch, ok?"

Gilbert shrugged nonchalantly, but was obviously intrigued. "Cool. By everyone you mean, like, me and Franny and Feli and West, right? Unless you want to involve the whole school in this, which is probably a real bad idea."

Antonio nodded. "Yeah, it is. Just us five is what I'd prefer."

"Awesome. I'll find 'em at the start of lunch, then. Wanna see if I can hit the whiteboard with this sharpener from here?"

XxxxX

By the time lunch rolled around, Antonio was completely starving. He hadn't had time for breakfast that morning, and his wallet was probably hiding somewhere among the chaos of his bedroom floor, so buying lunch wasn't an option. The smell of food was driving him mad, even if it was school food.

Gilbert was already sat at one of the Formica tables with Feliciano and Ludwig, trying to mooch some money for food off his younger brother and, by the scowl on his face, evidently failing.

Antonio slid into the seat next to him, immediately earning himself an excited smile and wave from Feliciano, who was sitting opposite him. "Hiya, Toni! You are at school after all! I was hoping you would be! I'm really sorry about yesterday. Are you still mad at us? I don't want you to be mad. Please don't be mad!"

Antonio smiled warmly at his younger friend. "Don't worry, Feli, I'm not mad at anyone. If anything, it's me who should be sorry for kicking you out of my house when you were only looking out for me. But don't worry, I'm fine now, and I've got some great news for you. I'll just wait until Francis gets here so I can tell everyone."

"Yay~!" Feliciano threw his arms in the air delightedly. "I'm so glad. Also, I have time to eat my pasta before you explain!" He pried the lid off his lunchbox and pulled a knife and fork off the clips on the inside of the lid, before happily digging into the pasta stowed within.

Next to him, Ludwig was giving Antonio a guarded look. Even for the slightly clueless Spaniard, it was easy to tell what he meant. _You'd better be careful. Don't upset Feliciano again. _Clearly, he didn't quite trust Antonio at the moment.

"Yo, West, can I have some money anyway?" Gilbert interjected. "The awesome me is completely starved."

Ludwig gave his brother a hard, unrelenting look. "No, Gilbert. You need to learn to be responsible for yourself sooner or later."

"Aw, man," Gilbert pouted, but wasn't dissuaded and quickly turned to Antonio. "Hey, Toni, you can pay the awesome me back that favour you owe me by buying me lunch!"

"Sorry, Gil," Antonio replied. "but I forgot my wallet this morning. I don't have any lunch either."

"Mm-mhm-rrghff-mmff-affrrgh!" interrupted Feliciano, waving his fork around with his mouth full of pasta.

Ludwig sighed. "Feliciano, how many times do I have to remind you not to speak with your mouth full?"

Feliciano swallowed forcefully. "Sorry, Ludi. I keep forgetting~. Ve, you guys can have some of my pasta if you like. I have lots! I'll go get you some more forks from the canteen!" Without waiting for a reply, he sprung up and raced off to find aforementioned cutlery. A minute later he was back, proudly waving his stainless steel find.

Gilbert grinned. "Awesome. Cheers, Feli." He snatched one of the forks off the table and speared a piece of pasta out the box. Antonio glanced at Feliciano for permission, then gratefully followed suit. He couldn't recall a time when pasta had tasted so good. Well, except for that once he'd managed to persuade Lovino to cook for him.

"_Excusez-moi_, but are you two scoundrels meant to be raiding dear Feliciano's lunch? He has to eat too, _non_?" A distinct voice sounded behind them and a second later Francis swung his legs into the seat next to Antonio.

"It's ok, Big Brother Francis!" Feliciano chirped. "They forgot their lunch and Ludi wouldn't lend Gil any money to buy some, so I said they could have some of my pasta!"

"It's not my fault," Ludwig protested, obviously not wishing to sound completely heartless to his brother. "Gilbert needs to learn not to be irresponsible, and at the moment the only way that he's going to learn is the hard way."

Francis raised an eyebrow suggestively and smirked. "Kinky. Anyway, _un petit oiseau _told me that Antoine has something to say?" There was a short cheep and Gilbird poked his feathery little head out of Gilbert's bag before fluttering up onto his master's shoulder.

Antonio nodded. "Mmm. Yeah, well, don't get mad at me for bringing this up again, but I've got proof that it's actually Lovi I've been visiting."

Ludwig closed his eyes, his expression clearly saying _Gott, not this again_. The smile had once again vanished off Feliciano's face and he was trembling slightly. "Toni-"

Swallowing the panic rising in his veins, Antonio continued. "It's ok, please bear with me. See, I was talking to Lovi last night about you guys not believing me, and he's written a letter to prove to you that it's really him. I haven't read it because he asked me not to, but I think it say something that only he'd know, to let you know that he's really there."

Gilbert gave him a sharp look. "Really? Then show us already."

"I can't, Gil. I haven't got it with me now. I was intending to bring it, but since I overslept, I completely forgot to. If you guys come over to my house after school, I'll show you it."

Ludwig tentatively put his arm around the shoulders of an uncharacteristically silent Feliciano. "It's your call, Feliciano. If you want to go read the letter, we'll go with you after school. If you don't want Antonio to mention this again, I'll get him to stop, ok? Lovino was your brother, so it's up to you to decide how far this goes before we call help."

That sounded just a tad more than ominous. Antonio bit his lip, wondering if Ludwig was threatening violence or just calling in a psychiatrist. He wasn't really sure which was worse, either.

A tense silence later, Feliciano twisted his fingers and softly said "I'll go."

Ludwig nodded tersely. "Alright. Are you two coming as well?" he said, regarding Gilbert and Francis.

"You bet, West," Gilbert replied. "I wanna know what Toni's come up with."

"_Tact_,_ mon cher_," Francis chided him, waving a finger under Gilbert's nose. "And I'll come as well. We're going to stick this through until the end."

"Very well," Ludwig concluded. "Antonio, what class do you have last?"

Antonio scratched his head in thought. He never was very good at remembering his classes, much to the chagrin of his teachers. "Uh, Chemistry, I think. In S106."

Ludwig nodded again, his face wearing a stony expression that Antonio didn't like much. "Then we'll meet you at the South Block entrance after last lesson, then. And until then, I suggest we do not speak of this matter further." He turned towards Feliciano in concern. "Feliciano, are you alright?"

The Italian nodded, forcing his lip to stop trembling. "Ve. I think so, Ludi."

"Good. Gilbert, provide us with a change of conversation topic, please. Something that's preferably not you, or how Prussia should be declared a country again, or how cute your little bird is."

Gilbert folded his arms in disgust. "Aw, West, you've taken away all the good topics. No fair. Uh, well, I was thinking about sticking Specs in a locker before next period?"

"_No_, Gilbert."

XxxxX

Just as prearranged, Ludwig and Feliciano were waiting for the Bad Touch Trio as they came out of Chemistry later that afternoon, and together the five walked the mile and a half back to Antonio's house, chatting amicably about random topics. But each noticed the underlying tension in the others about their upcoming discussion; Feliciano's overly forced smiles, Ludwig's taut facial muscles, Francis twisting a lock of his hair about his finger. Except for Gilbert, that was, who wasn't put off by pretty much anything, and was larking about like he usually did. For which Antonio was glad – they rather needed a friction-reliever.

"So, Antoine," Francis began, once the five were sat across Antonio's front room some time later. "This note of yours. It is real, you say?"

"Of course!" Antonio replied, slightly incredulous at how many times he was having to repeat himself. He thought he'd established this at lunch earlier.

"Yeah, well, it's gonna take a bit more than that to convince the awesome me of something completely impossible, yanno," Gilbert interrupted, quickly resorting to his favourite seating position with his legs over the arm of the chair.

Ludwig butted in before the conversation began going in circles. "Why don't you just show us the note, Antonio, and then we can comment on its existential feasibility?"

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah, go fetch. Note or GTFO. Or something like that."

Relieved, although somewhat jittery, Antonio jogged upstairs to find the note. He quickly crossed the untidy room, snatching up the shorts he'd slept in off the floor and ferreted in the pockets for the note. Nothing. Trying to quell the bile rising in his throat, he tossed the empty shorts to one side and scoured the room with panicked emerald eyes, the déja vu of yesterday coming back to haunt him so many times worse.

He looked about the clutter covering his floor, the carpet only partly visible, and sighed. He really had been lax on the cleaning lately. But, so very thankfully, the folded piece of paper was sat there on the floor; presumably it had fallen out of the pocket. He picked it up, smiling once again, and headed back downstairs to the three expectant – and one skeptical – faces waiting in the lounge.

Antonio extended the still folded paper to Feliciano. "Here, Feli. It's from your brother, so it's only fair that you get to read it first. I haven't yet; Lovi asked me not to."

Feliciano took the paper like it was a ticking bomb, tears threatening to spill from his golden-brown eyes and tentatively unfolded it, eyes locked firmly in the paper's ensnaring grip.

There was a heart-stopping pause as Feliciano stood motionless and the other four held their breath.

Feliciano choked back a sob. "It...it's blank. There's n-nothing here." The paper fluttered gracefully to the floor as his limp fingers lost their shaky hold.

Antonio felt like he'd just been shot through the heart.

"What?" Ludwig leapt to his feet and snatched the note from the floor. His eyes widened. "He...he's right. It's just a blank piece of paper."

Antonio opened his mouth to protest, to ask Ludwig to prove it, anything. But words wouldn't form. He gasped for breath fruitlessly like a goldfish out of water, and collapsed to his knees, mind spinning in disbelief. It...it was impossible. Did this mean...

...he really had gone mad?

* * *

><p>Heh. I am so very very evil. And no, I'm not going to tell you if it is real or a fantasy.<p>

Sorry this chapter's a bit later than I intended it to be. I was midway through writing, and I thought; I really don't like where I'm leading this. But honestly, it was completely...impossible, bordering on the fantastical, and I thought that it was the wrong way to go. So I've completely rethought where I'm leading this, and what I've got before is now that alternative ending. Which is not going to get published, unless it's really requested or whatever. 'Cos its not that great of an idea. Much prefer this, even if it is evil.


	13. Fear of the World Around You

Antonio clutched his head, not able to believe what he was hearing. "_Dios. O Dios, O Dios, O Dios." _

Francis crossed over to his distraught friend and put his arm around his shoulders. "Shh, _mon ami_, it's ok. You're alright."

"I can't believe it," Antonio sobbed. "It was all a dream, you guys were right all along. I've been imagining it all along." He'd curled up into a ball by now, arms over his head and legs tucked up to his chest, tears streaking shining rivers down his ghost-white face.

Francis patted his head as Gilbert and Feliciano approached to help comfort him. "You're going to be fine, Antoine, you'll see. We're all here for you."

"You were right, and I didn't listen, I didn't see the signs. I really am mad. Delusional. I'm seeing the image of my friend's dead brother. _Mierda_, I was in love with the version I imagined of him, too. _O Dios_, I need help!" His voice hitched as he struggled to take in huge gulps of air and he burst into a fresh wave of sobs.

"Shh, shh. That's what we're here for. You'll get the help, you'll see, and you'll be absolutely fine. We're here for you, Antoine. Every step of the way." Francis was trying his very best, but it was obvious he'd never had to comfort someone in such a situation before, and that he felt out of his depth.

It took several tense minutes before Antonio was back to a slightly calmer mindframe, but he still felt numb, like his mind was disconnected from the world. The news had hit him like a hammer to the chest, and he was finding it beyond hard to believe. Part of him wished that this too was all a dream, but that would mean that Lovino's world was real...and he knew that that couldn't be true now. Like it or not, he had to accept this for what it was.

XxxxX

The five sat watching a movie for a while, but no one was paying all that much attention to the TV, it was more of a distraction than anything, and occasionally a conversation-starter. Antonio was busy trying to catch up with the thoughts chasing circles around his head; not an easy task, and was sat in an armchair by himself, mostly zoned out of everything else that was going on. The others were keeping up a stream of lively chatter to keep the mood up, but a lot of the conversation was forced and it was like a grey raincloud had positioned itself above the room with the intention of keeping it in the dark, and very little was able to be done to move it.

Eventually, the film ended and long streams of credits began to roll up the screen. Francis, who'd been in charge of the remote, cut the power to the room's only light source, the TV, and plunged the room temporarily into darkness before he hit the lights back on.

Gilbert yawned and stretched himself out luxuriously. "So, what now? Strip poker?"

"Absolutely not," interrupted Ludwig, giving his older brother a sharp glare. "Antonio, what do you want to do?"

"It's getting late," Antonio pointed out quietly, unusually unaffected by Gilbert's suggestion. "I guess you guys should probably be heading home or something. We've got school tomorrow, after all."

Gilbert gave him a serious, concerned glance. "Dude, are you sure you don't mind being here by yourself?

Antonio paused for a minute before nodding. "Yes. I think I need to gather my thoughts on this, perhaps write down what's happened so far. Every detail, however much I don't want people to know. It'll...it'll help, I think."

Gilbert grinned at him, but it was a forced grin, without a hint of mirth. "If you're sure then. 'Cos, you can call the awesome me anytime if ya like." He brought a hand up briefly next to his ear shaped like a phone.

Francis nodded in agreement. "_Oui_. That goes for me as well. Anytime of the night, whatever's happened, I will be there to listen should you need me. Oh, and we will drop by your house at quarter to eight tomorrow, so we can walk you to school. Ok?"

"Thanks guys," Antonio smiled gratefully. "That'll be great. I'll see you then, I guess."

"Ve~," Feliciano sprang at him in an unsteady hug. "Please be alright, Toni! Don't let the dreams hurt you!"

Ludwig nodded. "Keep yourself occupied as much as possible, you don't want your mind to dwell on this. And if you do dream tonight, remember you are unconscious and tell the dreams that they are not real. You know they are not real, you believe they are not real, and they will go away, because your mind is stronger than they are. And you _can_ beat this, Antonio. Believe me." He gave Antonio a hard glance and a definitive nod, which was Ludwig's equivalent of an inspirational speech and a marching band, and turned to go back up Antonio's driveway.

"_Au revoir, mon ami_," Francis gave him a brave smile and drew a hand briefly down Antonio's arm, before following after Ludwig and Feliciano. "Keep safe."

"Yeah, _tschüss_!" Gilbert called, waving as his little bird cheeped and zoomed around his head.

Antonio watched them head up the street before going back inside. Once he was back within the confines of his four walls, he collapsed limp against the inside of the door and curled up, shaking like a leaf. He'd been stronger in front of his friends, but, alone, he felt lost, trapped within the bars of his mind, a prisoner of his own thoughts, completely helpless. He almost considered calling them back, but then remembered Ludwig's words. Like it or not, he had to beat this by himself, as it was himself he had to beat, and he was stronger than this.

But he didn't feel strong. Just weak, powerless, terrified of what his own mind might be plotting against him. He could drive himself to insanity and not even realise it, perhaps brought to the delusion that malevolent acts or dangerous stunts were normal, maybe even necessary. Or dwell in his own thoughts to such the point where he would take his own life to escape the lack of reality. It was utterly petrifying.

_Keep yourself occupied as much as possible, you don't want your mind to dwell on this. _Ludwig's words floated back to him through the darkness of his despair, and Antonio eagerly followed the light that they brought.

Keep himself occupied. Well, that was easier said than done. He knew from experience that, if he wanted to forget a thought, that thought became impossible to remove from what he was concentrating on.

Ok, well, if that didn't work, maybe there was something to watch on TV. Antonio dropped onto the sofa and recovered the remote from between two of the cushions. He skipped through a couple of channels and managed to find a documentary of some kind on the habits of turtles. Gratefully, he switched his mind off and focused only on the graceful beauty of his favourite creatures, dipping and twisting in the azure calmness of the water.

But the documentary was halfway through when he began watching and it was only half an hour later when it ended. Antonio glanced at the clock; only 10pm. He didn't want it to be still so early; he didn't want to have to go to sleep. The prospect of returning to his dream world, even though he knew it wasn't real, terrified him.

He blinked and all of a sudden realised that it took effort to reopen his eyes. _O Dios, the drugs. _The withdrawal, combined with his body clock's routine of falling asleep so early, was beginning to affect his mind, and his brain was automatically shutting down. Panic swept through him – he didn't want to dream now, he didn't want to face the possibility of his madness. But he couldn't resist the darkness' tender grasp, his eyes closed again, and slowly he was pulled, dreading every moment, into the clutches of unconsciousness.

XxxxX

Antonio could see the light streaming through his eyes even before he opened them and knew instantly he was where he least wanted to be, and he felt none of the happiness that had characterised previous nights for the past month. Instead there was only fear. His muscles tensed as he fought off a wave of panic, and he struggled to hold back a sob. _Stay strong. Fight this. It's your thoughts, nothing more, and you can beat this._

"What the hell, bastard?" came Lovino's voice again. "Two nights in a row and you're late!" The brunet was standing a few feet away, almost looming in stance, with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. _He seems so real. It's hard to believe I could imagine something so real, so detailed, so...captivating. NO! Bad thoughts. He's not real! _

Antonio pulled himself to his feet, drawing up to his full height and swallowing down his fear as best he could. "You're not real. I'm just imagining this." He spoke calmly, but firmly, and hoped he put enough true conviction into his words as to dispel the image forever.

No such luck. Lovino just looked confused for a second, then his expression turned to anger. "What the actual fuck, Antonio? Don't tell me those bastards got to you! This is real, remember? I gave you the note to give to Feliciano, for fuck's sake!" His olive-gold eyes blazed in the sunlight like fire and a fierce breeze blew his hair up in chaotic directions.

Antonio held his ground. "No. You're not real. I believe you're not real. Therefore the dreams go away. I'm not mad. I'm not mad."

"That's the mantra of a delusionalist, bastard," Lovino replied, breathing hard. "I thought I managed to convince you yesterday! This isn't the sort of place you can just fucking dream up! You were supposed to convince everyone, not join them!" He choked back a sob, tears welling in his anguished eyes. "Don't I mean anything to you?" His last question came out as little more than a whisper.

This was what Antonio had been dreading. Despite knowing it was fake, he still loved the Italian like no other, and it broke his heart to hear him say that. "Lovi...I...it's not real. This place isn't real. I love you, but you're not real! This is just a fantasy! IT'S NOT REAL!" He yelled the last sentence out with all he had, but the words rang hollow as they echoed off the hillside, and he didn't believe himself anymore.

"It is real!" Lovino shouted back at him, tears now cascading down his cheeks. "Why can't you just understand?" He looked so heartbroken that it took everything Antonio had not to run over and hug him, and tell him everything was a joke, that it was all going to be ok after all.

Antonio shook his head, not trusting himself to speak anymore. His eyes stung, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he too was in tears. He clenched his eyes shut tightly and pinned his tensed arms to his sides, futilely wishing himself far away.

"But the note, damn it!" Lovino started forward, but his legs collapsed under him and he tumbled to the ground in a heap, breath coming in choked, forced sobs.

"The note was blank, Lovi," Antonio confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

Lovino looked up, shocked, his mouth open in a desperate 'O'. "...what?" he breathed.

"The note was blank!" Antonio cried louder, his voice sending birds fluttering out of the trees nearby in fear. "The note was blank!"

"It wasn't blank, damn it!" Lovino sobbed, desperately trying to catch Antonio's eye. But the Spaniard knew he couldn't let him; one last look at that face and he wouldn't be able to leave it. It was tearing up inside to see his love in such a state and to know that he was the one to cause it. But he had no choice if he wanted to regain his mind.

And he knew the only way to resist it was to be far away, there was no other option, despite how his heart pleaded for him to stay and right things to the blissfulness they once were. He forced himself to turn away and walk down the hill, each step taking more strength than lifting a ball of lead.

Twenty paces away, he couldn't help but look back, and immediately he wished he hadn't. Lovino was a limp, pitiful wreck folded on the pale wilting grass and Antonio wanted nothing more but to run to him, cradle him in his arms like a child and comfort him so he would never be sad again. He knew that the image had already burned itself onto his memory, a guilt that would haunt him forever, real or not. With a sorrowful, breathy howl he ran from the scene, his face marred with tears and his head spinning so much it was disorientating.

Only as he left did he realise that the sky was dark with clouds, an ominous shade of black reminiscent of the purest shadows from the coldest winter nights. The horizon was ringed by a strange reddish glow, bathing the entire world in crimson fire, with long shadows stretching twice the length of their sources that hid pockets of unknown. All noise was gone, save for the whistle of the gentlest of winds ghosting through the trees.

Antonio couldn't help being terrified and increased his pace, hoping beyond hope that he could outrun this. It was worse than the gravest nightmare he'd ever had, attacking his every sense and taunting his mind.

But the darkness kept following him, or perhaps it was everywhere now. No matter how hard he ran, the atmosphere was the same, even though he was now more than a mile from where he'd woken up. He dived behind a tree, hearing nothing behind him but his own panicked breaths, and finally deemed himself free. Now it was only a matter of time to wait it out until morning. It couldn't be earlier than eleven...wait, that wasn't a comforting thought at all. Only seven and a half hours to wait? That was ages. Lovino was bound to find him in that time; this was his world after all.

No. No it wasn't. It was Antonio's world, in Antonio's head and he was the one who could control it. And he wasn't going to let Lovino find him.

"Antonio," the ghost of a voice called on the wind, gentler than an echo, quieter than a whisper. "Antonio, come back." It was a soft, pleading, heartbroken voice that stabbed at Antonio's heart with pure emotion, trying to lure him back.

Antonio realised instantly what it was and clapped his hands over his ears. "Not real, not real, not real," he chanted under his breath, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and trying to black his thoughts.

"Please don't hide from me," Lovino's voice whispered, and, impossibly, it was even louder and more compelling with Antonio's hands over his ears. The sheer emotion in the voice caused tears to cascade down Antonio's face once again, and he shook his head desperately, aching to do anything but what he was about to.

Antonio scrambled to his feet and started running again. He wasn't sure what it could possibly accomplish, but he had to try _something_. Anything.

"Antonio...why are you running? Do you hate me? Please don't hate me."

Antonio kept running, forcing himself to ignore Lovino's broken voice imploring him to stop. If he ignored it, perhaps, just perhaps, it would go away. Out of the sky, big fat raindrops, reminiscent of tears, began to tumble from the clouds and plopped heavily onto Antonio's scalp and clothes. He was briefly thankful he'd passed out in normal clothes – there was no way he'd be able to run like his in his pyjamas. The ground was slowly becoming rougher, small stones were poking out from between the blades of grass, which was fading to a pale shade of brown. It was becoming harder and harder not to fall.

"Antonio..." the disembodied voice of Lovino called. "You promised. You said you loved me. Why did you lie to me, Antonio? I loved you and you lied."

"Not real, not real, _not real, _NOT REAL!" Antonio screamed at the sky as a last resort to get Lovino to leave him alone. His mind had to believe the fear he was crying into the atmosphere.

And unbelievably, amazingly, it worked. There was suddenly a deafening silence and Antonio could feel his heart striking his ribs with the force of a cannon, waiting for the terrifying inevitable that was about to happen. It was too silent, too coincidental to be a good sign.

Then the world shook, sending Antonio tumbling to the floor as the ground knocked his feet from under him. "You don't believe I'm real? I'll show you who's real," the voice snarled, now echoing from the very fibres of the earth. If it had eyes, they would be flashing a glare like an uncontrollable inferno. Antonio could see Lovino in his mind, standing atop the hill with a powerful glare on his face as he watched Antonio from on high.

No! He had to fight this. There had to be some way that he could control this world, if it was in his mind. But wishing it to stop wouldn't work – he'd been trying that for this entire time and couldn't remember wanting anything more in his life. Except...wanting to stay with Lovino. Oh crap.

But he couldn't dwell on this forever – it was getting far too dangerous to stay where he was. The stones sat on the ground were growing into impossibly sharp rocks, rising out of the ground behind him and giving chase as he ran. No matter how fast he was, they kept up, always nipping at his heels and being a millimetre shy of tripping him to his doom.

He scrambled onwards, hoping that if he escaped the rocks long enough they'd stop, or at least his mind would consciously realise what was going on and allow him to stop this.

But the rocks didn't stop, and, from the way the ground was banking, he was being forced to run in circles. The town was now off to his right, as opposed to far behind him, and it looked like the geography of the world was being warped to chase him into what were now its worst possible parts.

Time for drastic action. Just as the jagged spines came into view from the front as well, he threw himself to the side, tumbling down the hill and crashing into the gravelled path at its base. Antonio drew himself up, gasping for breath and, trying to repress the pain burning his muscles, began running again. Even though the world was warping at his feet, controlling where he went, there had to be some way to escape it. He just had to figure out the secrets and weaknesses of his own mind.

The tall shape of Lovino's house came blearily into view through the rain, but it looked now like a ruin; the windows were smashed and in more than one case boarded up, the paint was peeling and faded, and the whole thing was covered in dust and dirt that even this incessant rain wouldn't shift. Antonio decided to pass the place by, even if it was shelter. The way his luck was going, it was probably filled with ghosts and the like, or would fall down on top of him the moment he stepped over the threshold.

A sharp pain raked his face as his mouth was suddenly filled with leafy fronds. A hedge had suddenly appeared in front of his face, blocking his path. He glanced around and realised he'd just walked into the maze.

Oh shit, the maze.

He spun around faster than lightning and sprinted for the exit he'd just run through. But it wouldn't get closer; if anything, it was further away. He sped up, desperate to escape the trap he'd just walked into, but, the faster he ran, the further away the rectangle of freedom got. Then a piece of hedge like a door swung shut just in front of him and he slammed full pace into it, spitting shards of leaf from his mouth as he tumbled to the floor. They tasted uncannily like soap. He picked himself up again and looked about, no longer trying to repress the pure panic that was overloading his system.

Tunnels of green were all that was visible, twisting and turning in all directions, with innumerable junctions jinking off every few feet. From the looks of it, he wasn't anywhere near the edge anymore, but somewhere inobtainable, inescapable. He was trapped.

But he had no choice but to try, even if it was a trap. Picking a trail at random, he cautiously set off down it, fully expecting fear and death of all kinds lurking behind every corner. Yet there was nothing, which was beginning to scare Antonio worse than what had actually happened. It was the waiting that was the hardest part, the most psychologically taxing, and Antonio half wanted to yell 'just do something already!' at the sky. But he didn't, because he knew that would be exactly what would happen, and he'd instantly regret it.

So he kept going through the maze's endless corridors. Either he was going in circles again, or the maze was so much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. It had been ages, and he didn't seem to be going anywhere, the skyline all around him seemed to be exactly the same wherever he went. Persisting on regardless, he turned another corner, and hit his first dead end.

A sudden voice made him jump, and his heart plummeted to his feet. "Why don't you believe me, Antonio?" Right at the terminal of the dead end stood Lovino, eyes red and swollen and pleading to Antonio's very soul.

Antonio yelped and instantly backtracked, sprinting away as fast as he could. He couldn't face Lovino, even if he was just a figment of his imagination. It was too painful.

As he rounded the next corner, he was suddenly caught around the waist by a pair of thin but surprisingly strong arms, pulling him close into an embrace. Lovino – for of course it was he – buried his head into Antonio's shoulder and hugged him tightly, sobbing into the crook of his neck. "Please...please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Antonio's shirt was quickly becoming damp, and his arms were awkwardly frozen halfway between being by his sides and around Lovino.

Antonio wanted nothing more than to hug the Italian back and never let go again, and to be honest it was the only thought in his mind, but his primary survival instinct pulled him away and he disappeared back into the maze's depths with a strangled "I'm sorry,".

Impossibly, he stumbled into the maze's centre, each breath a forced rasp of pain tearing through his chest. He couldn't physically run much further. Antonio collapsed to the ground, hoping that Lovino would relent for just long enough for him to get his breath back.

But the centre of the maze was calm. So very calm, but Antonio daredn't relax. If not for the sky – which was now the same shade as dried blood and dotted with fluffy black clouds – it would have been impossible to tell that it was part of a warped world. A beautiful fountain stood in the centre of the circle of emerald grass, spitting jets of crystal clear water into the air with a hypnotically gentle trickling sound. At the front of the fountain stood a bright red chrysanthemum, its petals fringed with delicate gold and spread in full and proud bloom. Curious, yet undeniably suspicious, Antonio knelt down next to it, wondering quite why such a tranquil place had survived in such a nightmare.

There was a small painted inscription on the marble of the fountain behind the chrysanthemum. In neat, flowing, but obviously childish letters, it read; _We found the middle! Feliciano and Lovino Vargas, age 5 and 6. _Antonio stared at it, confused beyond belief. How could his mind come up with something so...so...innocent?

A soft breeze ruffled the air, and Antonio looked up. The chrysanthemum quivered in the wind, then – by itself – turned towards Antonio, and suddenly it had Feliciano's face. "Why won't you believe fratello?" it asked, in a perfect imitation of the younger Italian's voice.

Antonio yelped and scrambled back, almost toppling over. His suspicions had been right – it was far from safe here. He turned tail and ran back into the maze, hoping that what may lie in there wasn't worse than what he'd seen before.

Lines of green flashed past him as he whipped past corner after corner, not caring where he was going, so long as it was away, and he knew that sooner or later he had to find the exit. His only aim now was survival until his alarm clock saved him from doom by his own mind. How long that was, he didn't know.

Something grabbed at his foot and he hit the ground hard, groaning in pain. There was a fierce grip on his left ankle and he glanced back to see a thick tendril of green wound tightly just above his foot, dragging him backwards towards the undergrowth. Antonio wrenched at it, wishing he had a knife or something, anything, that he could cut this off with. Stones pulled his shirt up and raked his stomach as he was towed across the ground. Blackness, deep, hungry blackness, waited impatiently at the base of the hedge.

Antonio pulled harder, guessing that in the blackness lay true insanity, and there would be no escape were he pulled in there. And, mere inches from the edge, he loosed the tendril from his ankle and leapt back to his feet. But his relief was short-lived, for the base of the hedges either side grew more tendrils, licking at his feet and threatening to topple him back down. There was so many of them, twisting and writhing from under the hedges and lunging for his feet and hands, hungry to pull him under the hedge and into the blackness beyond.

And all of a sudden, he was out of the maze, free of the tendrils' perilous grasp and back into the open, as much of an improvement it was. His left ankle felt like fire with every step, and he wouldn't have been surprised if it was broken.

Gasping for breath, and wondering how many more times he would have to escape, he struggled onwards down the fields, hoping the world wouldn't warp him back to the centre of the maze, or somewhere worse.

Then he realised that he really shouldn't think things like that. It was beyond asking for trouble.

The world spun, momentarily fading, and when Antonio's disorientated eyes brought it back into focus, he was precariously balanced to top of a rickety bridge across the lake, a fierce wind blowing it from side to side. He quickly seized a rope, clutching it as if his life depended on it. Which it quite probably did.

But the ropes were frayed and mouldy, and Antonio knew it was only a matter of time before they broke and catapulted him down into the water below. Was there anywhere he could escape to? He looked about desperately and, to the delight of the intense fear gnawing at his stomach, neither end of the bridge led anywhere. Rather, he was suspended in mid air, a hundred metres above the cold blue depths. Obviously, Lovino was done toying with him and this would be the end.

A pair of black leather boots walked in front of his view and Antonio looked up with dread to see Lovino's gaunt face glaring down at him, olive-gold eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Lovino-" Antonio started, hoping there was a way out, something he could do to stop this descent into madness.

"You brought this upon yourself," Lovino said bluntly. "So this is it." His face was taut, as if repressing something behind a mask of anger and indifference.

Antonio swallowed. "Am...am I going to die?"

Lovino gave a wan smile. "I'm not real, remember. So if you die here, it's not as if it's going to do anything. I don't see why you're so damn scared." His voice was teasing, but there was no mistaking the harmony of pain hidden under its carefully phrased tune.

"Lovi, Lovi, please don't. Why do you have to kill me?" Antonio gasped, seeing no other option than pleading. The Italian – the one in his mind – had to still love him enough to spare him, didn't he? He wouldn't just snap from one extreme to the other, could he?

Lovino looked at him, bleakly, sorrowfully. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to cut the ropes. You may die. Or maybe you'll survive the fall. I can't say I care either way." He slowly waved a hand and spoke coldly. "_Arrivederci_, bastard." There was a perilous _snap_, and the bridge collapsed beneath them, Lovino vanishing into thin air, but Antonio plummeting head over heels into the water hundreds of metres below.

His hair and clothes rippled and twisted as he fell, and he shut his eyes to stop the wind burning them as his drop increased in speed. High-velocity air tore the breath from out his mouth, and he hit the water without a drop of air in his lungs, shockwaves of pain vibrating up his back as he plunged into the depths with the force of a cannon.

Antonio paddled frenziedly, trying to make it to the surface, but the water had all the consistency of treacle and the heat of the depths of Antarctica. It pulled him down, slowly sucking him into the bottom of the lake and freezing his brain as his muscles gradually began to shut down. Stars swam before his eyes as his vision began to first blur and then turn black. _So this is how it ends_, he thought mournfully, and finally gave up his fight.

_BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP! _

* * *

><p>Apologies for this chapter being later than I intended. Most of it's been written for a while, but I managed to get so stressed out I made myself ill. Which was not fun. Also, neither are these exams. But you didn't come here to listen to me rant, so...<p>

Poor Lovi. He's a _little_ bit mad at the moment. Perhaps overreactive, but he's definitely mad. But I was in a dark mood when I began this, and it eventually turned out being quite long. But I'll be nice this time; Antonio's not dead.  
>And the final, decisive state of things will be revealed next chapter.<br>But, some bad news. After Chapter 14, I haven't much of an idea where I'm currently leading this without going obvious. It's what comes of doing a complete rewrite. So I have some endings to think of. And, with regards to the alternate ending (starring Magic!Iggy and a whole bunch of crazy weird stuff), should it be added onto the end of this once I've finished, or would it be better in another doc altogether? Cos I dunno :P  
>I'll shut up now.<p> 


	14. Why Do Accidents Have To Happen?

Antonio could never remember being so thankful for alarm clocks.

It was quite possible that the tiny piece of circuitry had saved his life, or at least his sanity, in pulling him out of the dream and back to reality. He'd woken up covered in a cold, almost feverish, sweat, with pain scoring lines all over his skin. For a few moments, even his throat had been closed and unresponsive, still clogged with illusory water, until pure panic had driven him to breathe again.

But what he knew now is that he was utterly petrified of the next night. If his mind came so close to killing him now, by tomorrow he'd either be certified insane or in a morgue. Why could his mind be trying to fight itself like this? It was the sort of thing that was impossible to discern, and perhaps would even begin to make things worse. Antonio didn't know. He only hoped that Francis or Ludwig or someone would know what to do before this evening, because with no form of reassurance it was probable that his terrified mind would create something even worse.

Antonio dragged himself out of bed, vaguely noticing behind his despair that something was painful, but he didn't really notice what until he tried standing up, and a striking pain in his left ankle seized him in a vice-grip and sent him toppling heavily into the floor. Moaning in pain, he swivelled around from his uncomfortable position on the floor to investigate why his ankle was trying to kill him. To his unthinkable shock, the ankle in question was swollen and marred with a rainbow of blue, green and purple bruising. In the exact same place that the tendril from last night had grabbed him. But that was _impossible. _There wasn't anything on Earth that could cause marks like this, except perhaps constrictor snakes, and there weren't any of those around. Hopefully. And he couldn't have gotten the injury from dreams, as they were, well, dreams.

But one thing was certain, however he'd gotten the injury, and that was that walking to school today was going to be complete murder. Perhaps he'd get someone to carry him. As long as it wasn't Francis.

He stumbled into the bathroom and was about to turn on the shower when he caught sight of a strange face in the mirror. Matted brown hair hung limply down around its exhausted tones, completely tangled. Long scratches, leaking dried blood, marred the blotched pallid skin that almost looked like it had returned from beyond the grave. And a pair of fearful, sunken green eyes watched him cautiously, betraying the presence of so many kinds of pain, from above dark circles of bruising, and a slightly swollen nose.

Antonio blinked, and the face simultaneously blinked back at him, and with a jolt he realised it was his own. He looked like he'd run face-first into a brick wall, then got dunked in a lake and towelled off with a hedge. And he certainly hadn't looked like this yesterday evening. _Wait, my face is injured too? This can't be coincidence. But...but how can the injuries be real? It was all in my head, so where could I have got hurt from? _He poked his head back out the bathroom door and scrutinised the area. _Nope, nothing disturbed. Haven't been sleepwalking. Can't think of a place where I'd have otherwise got injuries like this even if I had been, either. But that means...Ah! How on Earth does this even make sense! I can't have gotten injured from dreams! _

_...could I? _

Completely confused out of his mind, Antonio staggered back into his bedroom, ankle screaming in pain at him. The shower had helped clean the cuts on his face, but the hot water had just aggravated the contusions on his ankle and now even walking was agony.

He glanced off-handedly at the clock and was stunned to notice that it was already twenty-five past seven. Where had the time gone? Had he really been zoned out that badly wondering about his injuries? There were only twenty minutes left until his friends turned up, and he wasn't even dressed yet, a task which was bound to take a while due to the various degrees of injury marring his form.

Antonio moaned again slightly in pain as he bent down to retrieve his uniform; at a guess he'd jarred his back somehow as well. As it had been the day before, the room was an absolute tip, and even clean clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor with no mind for order. He really needed to clean up in here, but lately, it had been the last thing on his mind, what with probably insanity, dreams that seemed intent on killing him, and now strangely coincidental injuries.

His shirt and trousers he located easily enough, but it was a much harder job finding a matching pair of clean socks, and he eventually gave up and paired a plain black one with one patterned like the Spanish flag, both of which rubbed up painfully against his bruised ankle. He spotted his tie lying half under the bed, next to a folded piece of paper, a red guitar pick and a USB cable. He slung the tie around his neck, not bothering to knot it properly, and peered curiously at the paper. It looked oddly familiar. But he had absolutely no idea what it could be, so, out of curiosity, he retrieved it from the floor and unfolded it.

It read;

_Dear Feliciano, _

_Long time no see, huh? You probably won't believe that it's your brother writing this, but rest assured that it is. I'd tell you a secret that only we know so that you can tell it's me, but I can't think of one at the moment except, you know, the meaning of those curls that we both have? But I can't write that one at the moment because the damn tomato bastard's trying to read this and he's not getting to know what it does. _

_Speaking of tomato bastards, Antonio is telling the truth that he comes here to heaven in his dreams. He's not mad or delusional or whatever dumb theory the potato bastard's come up with. I don't know why he keeps coming here when he goes to sleep – it wasn't my decision – but he does. So you guys can stop thinking he's mad. _

_And I'm really sorry I left you by yourself, but I did what I thought was right and I don't regret it. But I do miss you, fratellino. (But only a bit, and don't tell anyone I said that.) If you give letters to the tomato bastard, I'm sure he'll bring them back to me so we can still talk and stuff. Oh, and the potato bastard better be taking good care of you now I'm gone, 'cos if he's not, I'm coming back to haunt the hell out of him. _

_Keep safe, _

_Lovino Romano Vargas. _

_..._

Antonio was beyond stunned. The floor seemed to have disappeared from under him, and his brain had just been evaporated out of his ears by the sheer revelation of what he'd just read. All of the ability to think had completely deserted him. The struggle to believe that his dreams weren't real had been nothing compared to this.

Until now he'd never believed he could have possessed such utter stupidity. He'd picked up the wrong piece of paper.

The wrong.

Piece.

Of Paper.

Lovino's note fluttered back to the floor as Antonio let it go and pressed his hands against his face, oblivious to the pain shooting up his nose at the contact. He shook his head uselessly and tried to suppress a stricken groan. It was all real, it had been all along, yet by his own clumsy mistakes he'd screwed it all up. Why had he rushed that morning, when it had been of the utmost importance? Why hadn't he bothered to check the note was the right note, when he knew it had fallen out of his pocket onto the floor of his cluttered room? Why, for once in his life, did he not just _think_? Now he'd nearly gotten killed by dreams, his friends thought he was mad, and he'd told Lovino with utter conviction that he wasn't real.

_Oh, God, Lovi! _Guilt slammed into Antonio like a sledgehammer as this realisation struck him, driving him to his knees and bringing bitter tears to his eyes. How could he do this to his beautiful _querido_? Lovino had been utterly heartbroken when Antonio had told him the note had been blank. There was no way on Earth that Lovino would ever forgive him for this. He would have to keep returning to a ruin of a world that was trying to murder him, all while knowing the one person he would ever truly love was out there somewhere, wracked with pain and completely destroyed. It wasn't something he could face, and he had no possible way of trying to deal with it.

Was there even a possible way to fix everything? It certainly couldn't return to the way it had been before, he knew that much.

A piercing ringing cut his thoughts in two, accompanied by a loud call of "Yo, Tonio! You there? The awesome me and co have come to go to school!" The doorbell, and Gilbert, at a guess. It must already be quarter to. Time didn't seem to be passing in any sort of linear fashion lately, and it made Antonio's brain hurt even more to think about it.

Antonio tried to get up, he really did, but his tired body had been driven over the edge by this final revelation and his muscles refused to respond to his efforts. It...it had all been too much. Poor Lovi. Antonio just couldn't get what he had done to him out of his mind, and even the smallest thought of it devastated him and strangled his heart with strings of guilt.

There was a rhythmic thudding coming through the floor, and hushed voices, both steadily drawing closer. Like a choir of percussion, but composed by someone with limited imagination and a serious love of copy-and-paste. Monotonous and inevitable. But whoever it was, and it sounded to be at least three people, was now on the landing.

"Ve, Ludi, I'm scared. Is Big Brother Antonio ok?" Feliciano's voice, trembling with fear.

Ludwig's reply was as unconvinced as it was short. "He'll be fine."

"Toni! You up here?" Gilbert called out, just before he threw the door to Antonio's bedroom open. "_Heilige Scheiße!" _In an instant, Gilbert was by Antonio's side, shaking his arm in an attempt to get a response. It had only taken half a second's glance at Antonio's desolate, tear-stained face to have him, and the other three, close by.

"_Antoine! Etes-vous d'accord? Parle-moi!" _Francis really was agitated; he only slipped into permanent French when his brain couldn't form any other words. Easily troubled Feliciano was already in tears, tugging at Antonio's sleeve and sobbing desperately in Italian.

Stricken as he was, Antonio couldn't hurt his friends like this on top of everything else. He wasn't able to take any more guilt. With a tremendous effort, he blinked and groaned a response. "I...I'm ok." It was little more than a whisper, as well as a complete lie, but it had the effect it intended, and that was to reassure his friends.

"_Danke Gott_," Gilbert sighed, rocking back on his haunches and running a hand through his messy silver hair. "Toni, you scared the absolute fuck out of us. I told you you shouldn't have stayed by yourself last night! What the fuck happened to you?"

Feliciano attacked Antonio with a relieved, tearful hug. "Ve! Toni, Toni, are you ok? What happened? Did the dreams still come back?"

Ludwig laid a calming hand on the Italian's shoulder and pulled him gently out of claustrophobia-inducing distances. "Where did you get these injuries, Antonio? Some of these cuts look serious. Should I call you an ambulance?"

"You're an ambulance," muttered Gilbert in the background to nobody in particular.

Antonio shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily when the action made his vision spin. "No...I don't think it's that bad. It's just..." His already faint voice petered out again.

Francis gently pulled him to his feet and sat him down on the soft covers of the bed. "It's ok, Antoine, take your time. Tell us, what happened to you? Did you get attacked? Are you sleepwalking?"

Antonio didn't reply, but shuffled back so he was leant against the headboard of the bed to try fight off the dizziness. Feliciano jumped onto the bed next to him, sitting cross-legged with wide eyes and a worried expression. Francis and Gilbert settled a few feet away at the other end of the double bed, while Ludwig remained standing nearby, characteristically silent and serious.

Several tense, speechless minutes passed before Ludwig spoke again. "I think it would be best if the five of us were to excuse ourselves from school this morning. This matter seems to be rather too serious to be solved in the thirty-odd minutes we have left to get there." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and slid it open.

Gilbert tapped his brother on the shoulder as he passed. "West, it's best we don't tell school the truth on this. They'll wanna send Toni to a mental institution or some shit. Just...I dunno...say he's ill, and you and Feliciano need to take care of him or something," Gilbert suggested, with an unusual display of empathy.

Ludwig nodded. "Yes. What about you and Francis?"

Gilbert grinned. "We skip class all the time, school won't give a crap if we add another day to that. Worst case scenario, we'll get detention. Who cares about that now. Just call 'em."

"Very well," Ludwig sighed, wisely realising that Gilbert was, for once, right, and exited the room to make his phone call, dialling the school as he went. It was several minutes before he returned, the others having formed a silent consensus not to discuss anything before they were all there and ready. Antonio, for one, was thankful for this time; he was still coming to terms with the initial shock, and the addition of his friends was now an extra stressor. He wasn't sure if they'd believe him, for one. He'd been so certain of the delusions yesterday, and now he'd completely backtracked. And his paranoid side wasn't convinced that the note would prove anything to them; it could quite possibly be an unknown effect of his fantasies.

"It's all cleared," Ludwig announced as he re-entered, pulling Antonio's desk chair up next to the bed and sitting down. He leant forward slightly, forming a pyramid with his fingers and giving Antonio a serious, but concerned look. "Alright. If you are ready to talk, Antonio, I suggest that you start from the beginning."

Antonio nodded slowly. His head was spinning again, and he was feeling increasingly unsure. But, then again, his friends deserved to know, and they would, if nothing else, be able to help him solve this. He drew a deep, calming breath and began. "Ok. Well, I was alright for about the first hour or so after you guys left, but I passed out after a while – because of withdrawal from the pills I guess." His voice sounded uncomfortably monotonous, and he couldn't give the events the gravity that they had had by just spouting facts. "I...I woke up back in Lovino's world shortly afterwards. He was mad at me for being late again. But I took Ludwig's advice to tell the dreams they're not real. And...and...and Lovi got mad at me. He just was so broken, so sad, but when I kept telling him he wasn't real, he got angry. No matter where I ran to, the world just kept warping. It turned from a paradise into a nightmare, and everything started to try kill me. There were rocks trying to chase me, growing up from the ground, and it just drove me in circles." Antonio paused for breath, shaking as he recalled his ordeal.

"Do we really need to know every detail of this, Tonio?" Gilbert interrupted.

Francis gave him a sharp look. "_Tais-toi_, Gilbert. Even the smallest details can be of the utmost importance. Continue, Antoine, if you will."

Antonio swallowed back a sob. "So I kept running, to try get away. I...I just felt so trapped in my own mind, that I didn't watch where I was going, and I ended up in the maze at Lovino's house."

"Maze?" Feliciano asked, a peculiar look on his face. He looked almost as if he was holding his breath.

"Yes," Antonio nodded. "At the house, there was a maze. Lovi took me past it when he gave me a tour. He said it had been there at his grandfather's house when he was little, and he used to get lost in it all the time. I got lost in it too, but that was because it shut me in there, directed me around. And Lovino was at every dead end, pleading with me that he was real...it just tore me up inside. And...I just ran, just tried to get away. I didn't really think. But suddenly I was in the middle, and at this point I had decided I really was screwed in the head. It was so clear, so innocent. There was a fountain in the middle, with this pretty gold-and-red chrysanthemum in front of it, and there was a little note written on the fountain saying that five-and-six-year-old Feli and Lovi managed to find the middle on it. I mean, how could-"

His words were cut off by a gasp from Feliciano. The Italian was leant forward, staring at Antonio with large disbelieving eyes. "What did you just say?" he breathed, voice shaking and barely audible.

Antonio blinked, confused, and thrown somewhat off-stride. "Uhh...there was a fountain in the centre of the maze, and a chrysanthemum in front of it? And 'We found the middle! Feliciano and Lovino Vargas, age 5 and 6' painted on the fountain next to it?"

A single tear slid down Feliciano's face and he stared disbelievingly at Antonio. "How...how could you know that?"

The other four exchanged puzzled glances. But it was Ludwig who saw the penny drop first, his eyes flaring as he gave Feliciano and Antonio a serious look. "Are you saying that, back at your grandfather's old house, there actually was a fountain where you and your brother wrote that, Feliciano?"

Feliciano nodded. "Ve~. Toni...how did you know about that?"

"I didn't," Antonio replied, suddenly reminded of why. "It's real!"

Gilbert audibly groaned. "Aw, no, not again, Toni."

"No, no!" Antonio protested. "I've got proof now! There, on the floor. Lovi's note – the real one. I must have picked up the wrong one the other day 'cos I was in a rush! I found it this morning!" He struggled upright and pointed urgently to the floor, desperately pushing back the paranoid thoughts that were suspecting that it wouldn't be there.

Following Antonio's outstretched finger, Ludwig bent down and immediately spotted the paper face down on the floor. He picked it up and returned to his chair, eyes scanning the page before him critically. After a second, his eyes widened and he handed the paper to Feliciano. "I think you should read this, Feliciano, even though it is an unwise idea. First, on the off-chance it actually is from your brother, and second, this 'secret' the writer speaks of will only be verifiable by you."

Startled, Feliciano gingerly took the letter and silently began to read it. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then a burst of crimson bloomed across his cheeks and he blinked fast as if repressing tears. And a few moments later, those tears were set free, spilling out over his eyes and pouring unrestrained down his face.

"Feli..?" Antonio asked uncertainly, cautiously reaching out a hand to the younger Italian.

Feliciano choked back a sob. "Toni...Toni's right. Fratello wrote this. H-he's the only one who'd know this. I've never told anyone, and it's something he wouldn't tell."

"What's not?" Gilbert asked, reaching forward and pinching from the letter from Feliciano. "Hmm-hmm-hmm." There was a short pause, then; "Aw, he misses you. Hehe. He probably didn't mention the awesome me 'cos it was too obvious that I'd be missed. Anyway, what'd those hair curls of yours do?"

Feliciano blushed a violent shade of magenta through his tears and stifled a nervous giggle. "Uh...well..."

Gilbert extended a hand. "Can I pull it?"

"No!" Feliciano squealed, shrinking back against the headboard and placing his hands protectively over his head.

"Hold up a second," Ludwig interrupted before things got chaotic. "The important thing is, does Antonio know what aforementioned curls do?" He raised a blond eyebrow questioningly.

Antonio shook his head. "No. I didn't know they did anything. I thought they were just, you know, unruly hair?"

"Fratello and me were the only ones who knew," Feliciano added. "It's...not really the kinda thing that we wanted public knowledge. I believe Big Brother Antonio now. Only fratello could have written that note." He wiped his eyes briefly on his sleeve and continued. "And, in the maze, we wrote that too. I remember painting that note and planting the pretty flower when me and fratello first found the middle of the maze on our own. It took us almost a whole day and fratello almost ran out of his supply of tomatoes. Nonno got really mad that we went in there by ourselves, but he was pleased we ended up safe and that we found the middle. Since the house is sold now, I never needed to tell anyone about that, and I thought fratello had forgotten altogether." A small, but undeniably happy smile blossomed across his face. "But I guess he didn't. That's why I believe that it's real, too."

Antonio smiled for the first time that morning and pulled Feliciano into a grateful hug. "Thank you, Feli. I wasn't completely sure until you said so just now." He pulled back and raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "It explains why nothing in that world responded to my thoughts, even during the most intense bursts of emotion or most certain thoughts."

Francis hummed quietly for a moment, debating. "Well, the evidence seems to add up. But, most importantly, if Feliciano believes it, I do as well."

"Same goes for the awesome me," Gilbert agreed. "Though this still seems to be some screwed-up kinda situation. What d'you think, West?" He gave his brother a curious glance.

Ludwig sighed. and drummed his strong fingers on his knee. "I would have to say I am still rather sceptical about this situation. It is possible that Antonio did obtain these facts, whether consciously or subconsciously, which would nullify the validity of the letter. And, scientifically speaking, it is impossible to visit other worlds, if they even exist, especially via dreams."

"Ludi!" Feliciano cried, staring at his boyfriend with large pleading eyes. "I believe it!"

Ludwig paused, looking almost sheepishly at the floor. "I'm sorry, Feliciano, but you are fairly gullible. And I just do not see the proof."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "If ya look at it, West, it does kinda all add up in hindsight. I mean, Toni's fucking _injured_, in all the places he said about. And you can't tell me you can cause that kinda bruising from falling down the stairs or some shit like that. And besides, if Feli...hey wait! You never said what those curls of yours even do, Feli!" His pale face twisted into a smirk, red eyes glinting with interest.

"Ve!" Feliciano, who'd only just come off the backboard, shrunk back again, his face returning to its previously bright pink shade. "Uh...it...it's...it's an erogenous zone..." he muttered shamefacedly, hiding his face behind his hands. The mentioned curl was twitching slightly, as if agitated.

Antonio blinked in surprise. _Wow. I never thought a piece of hair could do something like that. I wonder if me and Lovi – oh no. Lovi. _Pain stabbed at his heart as he realised that Lovino was unlikely to ever speak to him, let alone bring their relationship back to what it had once been. He'd only succeeded in depressing himself again now.

Meanwhile, Gilbert had burst out laughing as Francis leant forward interestedly. "Whoa! Hey, West, did you know about this? Gonna have some fun tonight, know what I mean? Kesesesese! And your brother's did this too? Damn!"

"That's enough, Gilbert," Ludwig warned his brother, although he himself was tinged slightly pink. Apparently he _didn't_ know about this interesting fact until now. "Moving swiftly on. Admittedly there are several things that do fit better with this explanation, but there are others which do not add up without further evidence."

"Like what?" Gilbert challenged. "How the fuck do you expect to verify this further? Feli's convinced; why isn't that good enough for you?"

"Hey, hey," Francis interrupted. "Let's cut with the sibling rivalry for a bit. I'm sure Antonio's fine with Ludwig playing the sceptic for the moment, aren't you?"He glanced across at the silent Antonio, who was still caught in the bout of guilt-induced depression that had just enveloped his brain. "Antoine?"

Antonio glanced up briefly and sighed, but didn't reply. The lump stuck in his throat was too big for words.

"Don't give a fuck about West, man," Gilbert reassured him. "He's just being a douche like usual, you don't have to get all sad about him." Ludwig shot his brother a fierce blue-eyed glare of death at this.

"It's not that," Antonio murmured quietly. "Lovi...Lovi hates me. I told him he wasn't real and yelled at him. I ran from him when he cried and tried to change my mind." Heartbroken tears began to slide down the Spaniard's battered face. "Shit...I must have broken his heart, and there's nothing I can do. There...there's no way that he'll ever forgive me for this, and..." His voice faded and he drew his legs up against his chest, biting back more tears. He was fed up of crying in front of everyone by now.

Feliciano blinked his large sorrowful amber eyes, which were once again filling with empathic tears, and reached across to give Antonio a hug.

Francis smiled sympathetically. "Do not worry, Antoine. There is always hope for _l'amour_, believe me. If you truly love him, and he you, then you will find your paths intertwine again."

"How?" Antonio sighed. "Last time I was there, the whole world was against me. Literally. I'm still wary of going back there, even though I know it's pretty much inevitable. And it's even worse now that I know it's real." He rubbed the bruising on his ankle thoughtfully, wondering how much worse the damage could potentially get.

There was an uncomfortable silence until Feliciano spoke up. "Ve~. Fratello is often mad, but he tends to improve if you give him time. He kinda goes explosive at the start of something going wrong. Yes, he'll be angry at you, but he'll be more likely to listen today than he was yesterday. Oh! And if I write you a note back explaining, he'll maybe listen to me too!"

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Feliciano? I mean no offense, but your brother is not the...most agreeable of people. He can hold a grudge for quite a while, against me at any rate."

"That's 'cos he hates you, West," Gilbert pointed out constructively. "It's probably different for people who aren't you."

Ludwig didn't look convinced in the slightest; then again he was always the sceptic of the group. "I still think it is unduly risky. Whether it is real or not. If it is not real, Antonio is still very much in danger of becoming a prisoner of his own mind. On the off-chance it is real, Lovino is not a very forgiving person, and it seems like the power he has over this world is more than enough to kill Antonio; he sounds like he came close already."

Antonio nodded. "Kind of. I was mid-way through drowning when my alarm clock went off."

"Hmm." Ludwig looked thoughtful, but didn't elaborate further on this point. "In any case, there is no way that Antonio is staying here by himself tonight. Thankfully, it is the weekend tomorrow, so it will be easy for us to stay up and watch him, to the best of our ability."

"Well, I suppose we have the rest of the day to come up with a plan of action," Francis said. "For the moment, I suggest we take a break, perhaps with some delicious food, and give a bit of medical attention to poor Antoine. With everything that's gone on, his injuries have gone untreated, and though they are not serious, he'd probably feel better for it."

Antonio nodded. That sounded like the best idea he'd heard all morning. "Yeah. Let's do that, and solve this in a bit."

* * *

><p>And the truth is revealed. (Who guessed? :P) But yeah, I never had the heart to make Antonio mad in this story, in either version. He's just a little beat up. For the Moment.<br>*Dramatic music*  
>In an unrelated note, I've decided not to write the alternate ending unless I get an absolutely massive demand for it. I just don't have the time at the moment. Which is why this is also late-ish. You'd think that after exams, my workload would decrease a little, but no. If anything, it's increased. And people wonder why I have stress-related problems. Hah.<br>PS: Over 50 reviews? What is this magic? Thank you all so much! Am a very happy writer!


	15. Trying To Reconcile With Italians

"So, let's run through this one last time," Francis announced from his seat at the end of Antonio's bed. It was now Friday evening, at about ten o'clock, and the five were clustered on Antonio's bedroom floor, which, thanks to Ludwig, was a lot cleaner than it had been twelve hours ago. Antonio was tapping his fingers nervously on his knee, his face a pallid green colour and with a sinking feeling in his stomach that perfectly matched the look on his face. He felt like he was about to be sick.

He knew perfectly well why. In less than half an hour's time, he was either going to be catapulted back into a world that tried to kill him with only an experimental lifeline for comfort, or know for certain that he'd never see the love of his life again when his dreams yielded nothing. It wasn't a great set of options, but one of them was certain to happen; he had to fall asleep sooner or later, and the presence of his friends, especially Ludwig, meant that it wasn't going to get put off very easily.

Francis had a sheet of notebook paper on the deep red carpet in front of him, upon which was a list of short notes in Ludwig's militaristically neat handwriting, as well as a couple of lines in Gilbert's untidy scrawl. He ran the end of a pen down the side as he scanned the words, reading them in a serious, albeit rather monotonous, voice. "_D'accord_. So, 'When Antonio goes to sleep tonight, the four of us keep a close watch on him, especially looking for signs of distress or injury. A maximum of two others are allowed to sleep at once, and we are to also keep an eye on each other to make sure we too do not fall asleep. If Antonio begins to sustain injuries, or worse, we are to immediately do everything we can to wake him. If this does not happen, at precisely seven a.m., all those remaining asleep are to be woken, and the results of the night to be discussed.'" Francis put down the pen and raised an eyebrow at Ludwig. "Seriously, Ludwig, is this how you talk all the time? I'm surprised you are able to sustain conversation, let alone retain a boyfriend. You sound like you are reciting the procedure for building a computer, not ensuring the safety of a friend."

Ludwig frowned. "Formal tones ensure a message is passed on with minimal confusion."

"Ve~!" Feliciano agreed, absently playing with Ludwig's fingers. The younger Italian was sat on the carpet next to Ludwig, after some earlier protesting had got him out of the German's lap. "There's nothing wrong with how Ludi talks! I like it a lot."

"Oh, yeah, everyone loves West," Gilbert scoffed, rolling his crimson eyes toward the ceiling. "Can we get on with this already?"

Ludwig nodded. "Yes. Back on task. Do you have the awakening equipment?"

"Yup," Gilbert confirmed. He pointed at the small pile of items sat in front of him and raised each momentarily as he spoke. "Bottle of water, air horn, poking stick and alarm. Shame Franny couldn't find that electric shocker of his, though." He gave an unpleasant grin at Francis.

"Ve~, this all seems a bit harsh to Toni. Why do you have an electric shocker thingy anyway, Francis?" Feliciano asked curiously.

Francis flicked his hair nonchalantly, his eyes fixed firmly on the wall in the other direction, and his cheeks perhaps ever-so-slightly more pink than they would be. "Ah, that is all by-the-by, you know? It comes in useful sometimes."

"Ooh, really? I've never used one before, what do they do?" Feliciano leant forward excitedly, innocent eyes wide.

"Moving swiftly on," Ludwig interrupted, quickly brushing Francis' comments aside. "We have several ways of making sure Antonio wakes up, should ordinary shaking fail to suffice."

Gilbert raised a hand lazily. "Yo, West. What happens if we can't wake him up?"

Antonio swallowed nervously. He'd already thought of this question, and didn't fancy his chances if it arose in real life. If he was in enough danger to warrant being woken up, it was unlikely he'd last for very long if he was left by himself. Only the chance warbling of his alarm clock had prevented him from suffocating in the cold blue waters of the lake and he did not want to risk such luck again.

"That is unlikely to happen," Ludwig replied seriously, but with a hint of worry in his eyes. "Antonio, on several previous occasions, has been woken by his alarm clock, so our methods are also likely to be effective. It's not as if we will stop trying if the first go fails, anyway."

Gilbert shrugged. "Just wondering as, y'know, he could die and that."

Francis raised a fine blond eyebrow again, this time at the elder German. "Gilbert, _cher_, what have I told you about tact? Poor Antoine looks like he's about to faint."

"Then we should get this started as soon as possible," Ludwig answered. "It may not be the best of plans, but procrastinating will solve nothing, and it's probably better for Antonio not to dwell on this. It's been bad enough for him being constantly reminded of it all day." He gave Antonio a nod, which was probably meant to be supportive, but failed to make Antonio feel any more comfortable with his situation. "Oh, and one more thing. If you have the safe opportunity, pick up something to bring back with you and put it in one of your pockets. If you are able to produce something out of nowhere, from our perspective, then I will be fully convinced that you are not delusional and this is something beyond our current understanding."

"West, you have the complicatedest ways of saying simple things," Gilbert sighed. From its nest in his silver hair, his little bird chirped in agreement.

Ludwig frowned at his older brother. "And you have an annoying penchant for making up words, Gilbert."

Francis waved his hands before the sibling rivalry could spark up again, realising time was against them and arguments were more than counter-productive at the current stage. "_Calmez-vous_. End of round three, you two. Is there anything else that we have to add that hasn't already been discussed?"

Feliciano's hand shot into the air, fingers clutching onto a piece of paper. "Ooh! Yes! I've written a reply to fratello! Can you take it, please, Toni?"

He was practically bouncing up and down with eagerness, and, despite all his forebodings, Antonio couldn't say no. You just didn't say no to Feliciano, it was like not being human. "Of course, Feli. It may take a while to get Lovi to talk to me, though." This, of course, was a complete understatement.

"Ve~. Fratello will forgive you, Toni." Feliciano, although still he was smiling, had a much calmer, more definite look on his face, as if he was saying something he truly believed in. It was almost serious, which wasn't a look often seen on the younger Italian, and it made the expression all the more potent. "You made an honest mistake, and fratello will realise that. Once he's done shouting, that is." He giggled slightly, fondly remembering his brother, and sighed.

Francis nodded. "Yes. Well, I suppose that it is best to begin. 'Strike while the iron is hot', as Arthur would say." He turned to Antonio, wearing a reassuring smile. "Are you ready, Antoine?"

The Spaniard shook his head. "Nope. But I don't really have a choice." What he really wanted at the moment, aside from this to not be happening, was for his head to stop spinning and his thoughts to line up straight. But it seemed that his mind was, even after everything, still against him.

Feliciano threw himself at him in a hug, spinning the pair around and narrowly avoiding knocking Antonio's desk flying. "Ve~! Don't worry, Toni! We're all going to make sure you don't get hurt, and Ludi's here so you know it's going to get done properly! And you have my letter for fratello, so he'll have to understand what happened. You'll be just fine, you'll see~." He stepped back and beamed, but there was a hint of worry under the light of his smile, like he was still slightly scared, but trying to hold back the fear for Antonio's sake. And, because he believed in his brother.

"Thanks, guys," Antonio tried to smile, but only managed a faint twitch of his lips before his expression returned to nervousness. If he didn't do something soon, the tension was going to kill him, But then again, it was the prospect of doing something that was making him so tense. A vicious circle, if you would.

"Keep safe," Ludwig told him. "If you get into trouble, try to react in a way that will be noticeable to us." Antonio had absolutely no idea _what_ would be a noticeable way, but decided not to ask.

"Hehe," He heard Gilbert say as he lay down. "I just noticed – we're gonna be watching him sleep. We're totally creepers now. Well, 'cept for Franny. He's already one."

"Shut up, Gilbert," returned Ludwig and Francis in unison.

Antonio lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with his eyes shut. Now he was thinking of it and expecting it, sleep was adamantly refusing to come. He didn't feel tired, or even relaxed. The blankets were warm and soft beneath him, but his breath was short and jumpy, his muscles were tensed and it just felt uncomfortable. There was no way he could fall asleep being so conscious of everything around him. Not that he wanted to get to sleep quickly, though. There was still so much fear in his heart, hiding amongst the hurt and the guilt and the regret. He didn't know what could be waiting there for him, what terrors he might have to endure for eight solid hours if his friends couldn't wake him. And to make matters worse, he didn't have the faintest idea of how to find Lovino once he got there. It was possible, nay, probable, that the world would have warped itself beyond recognition. If it ran on Lovino's subconscious, then it would almost definitely be injured and broken. Antonio hated himself for causing that kind of pain, and he was willing to do anything to make things right. Would Lovino even be willing to talk to him? Poor Lovino. Dear, sweet, beautiful Lovino. Heartbroken beyond repair, hiding in a lost, lonely world, for ever and eternity. It sounded like an awful...

XxxxX

...nightmare.

Antonio froze as soon as he felt the change, with something harsh and scratchy poking at his skin as he lay on the ground, and a suffocating dampness to the air. With dread forming in his heart he sat up and opened his eyes, and gasped.

He had been right. The world, Lovino's world, once such a brilliant sunny paradise, now looked like it had been hit by the apocalypse of all natural disasters. Apart from the contours of the hills, the landscape was flat, with all signs of trees and buildings gone, as if they had never been there. Instead, the ground was flat and black, and the pale grey sky clogged with clouds of choking dark smoke. The scratchiness raking Antonio's arms was a layer of soot and ash, coating the ground like an ebony snowfall, with no evidence left of the grass that had once lain beneath. A chill wind hissed through the air, the polar opposite of the warm and welcoming sunlight of the evening before.

Antonio shivered violently, goosebumps rising on his bare arms, and momentarily wished he'd known beforehand to bring a jacket. But now wasn't the time to worry about the weather. He had to get to Lovino fast. If this was how the world reflected his emotions and thoughts, then he must be shattered, anguished beyond comprehension, a heartbroken shell. And Antonio hoped beyond hopes that there was a way to fix that.

Was it even possible for this place to be the way that it was? Heaven was called so for a reason, and the world morphed itself to help make the person experiencing it happier, to suit their feelings. How could someone be sad in heaven? And Antonio immediately felt that familiar pang of guilt as he realised that he was the one to cause such an impossible anomaly.

He shivered again beneath his thin T-shirt, and hoped that the cold wasn't going to do much damage. He had to survive eight hours in this weather, and he really didn't fancy getting hypothermia from dreams. If he kept moving, perhaps he'd ward off the cold for longer. So Antonio set off, each footstep raising a cloud of displaced ash, like a little sooty sigh.

Where could Lovino be? The tomato fields were unlikely to still be here, nor was the town, or the hill where they'd sat and watched sunsets so many times. So many beautiful memories, now all lost, remaining only in Antonio's mind.

In his mind...that reminded him. Ludwig was still the sceptic, and he may as well humour the German while he was able to. It wouldn't harm to reinforce his own mindset, either. Antonio bent down and scooped up a handful of the fine soot covering the ground, rubbing the substance between his fingers. His skin smudged black, not unlike how pencil shavings would affect it. It wasn't ideal, but, from the looks of it, it was the only thing around here. It would have to do. Thin patches of black scattered across the material as he tucked the loose ash into his trousers. With his pocket now full of the sharp obsidian powder, Antonio set off on his search with renewed force.

He passed dark and empty field after dark and empty field, all the while feeling the horrible sense of loneliness that dominated the air, the sense that made him want to run and hide, to hug someone and never let go until all was right again. And the fact that this desire was impossible to fulfill made the sensation so much worse.

Due to the sheer amount of time he'd spent here in the last month, Antonio knew the landscape well enough not to get lost, and he followed the familiar contours of the hills – the only remaining directional landmark – hoping that if he searched for long enough, he would eventually find him.

Yet the search seemed endless as his emerald eyes scanned seemingly identical terrain, finding nothing. He wished he had a watch so he knew how long he'd been out here, and, more importantly, how long he had left. If he didn't find Lovino soon, either the cold or the pent-up tension in his chest was going to kill him. A tingly feeling of numbness was beginning to caress his fingers, and the digits were turning pale and trembly.

But then, his eye caught a figure standing alone and motionless on the far side of the field, silhouetted against the pale sky.

Even knowing what was about to come, Antonio's heart couldn't help but leap at the sight of the Italian. A quiet gasp of delight escaped his mouth and he ran across the field towards Lovino's darkened figure. The Italian was standing straight, but there was a slight droop to his stance that betrayed his emotion. His brown hair blew softly in the wind, but the gentle lines of his face remained impassive, backlit dramatically by the sky. A small, dreamy smile flickered across Antonio's face. Even in such a place, after all that had happened, Lovino was still so beautiful.

"Lovi?" Antonio called nervously, keeping a reluctant but respectful distance away. One wrong move now could wreck things forever.

Lovino didn't reply, and for a heart-tearing moment, Antonio was afraid he either was refusing to hear, or couldn't entirely. But then, in a broken, barely audible monotone, Lovino spoke. "Go away. How could you even think of coming here, after all that you have done?"

Antonio felt like crying at the sorrow in Lovino's voice, and he blinked fast to halt the tears threatening to fall. It was now or never, make or break, do or die. "Lovi...I'm so so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this. I would never _want_ to hurt you like this. I know there's no way to turn back the clock, or anything I can say that will make you forgive me, but, for what it's worth, I am more sorry than you can ever imagine. I'm sorry I doubted your existence. I'm sorry I couldn't trust the evidence that I was so blind to. I'm sorry that I didn't think, and that my mistakes screwed everything up. But most of all, I am sorry that I hurt you." And, with the pure emotion he spoke the words, the pent-up tears burst their banks and silently traced their way down his cheeks.

There was a long, tense silence, but Antonio knew better than to speak again. Patience was his ally here; if he said the wrong thing, Lovino was more than likely to return to the vengeful anger he wielded yesterday. Antonio had no desire to upset the Italian further, or to die in impossible and increasingly creative ways.

Finally, Lovino replied. "So. You've finally realised that you were wrong, then?" His voice was still that awful broken monotone that tore at Antonio's heart.

"Yes," Antonio replied slowly. "I was such an idiot, Lovi. I was in such a state of panic the other day that...that I picked up the wrong piece of paper. I found the real note this morning and everyone believes it now, but..." He sighed. "But that was no excuse for what I did. I'm so sorry, Lovi."

There was another of those heart-wrenching pauses. "The fuck?" Lovino murmured incredulously.

Antonio bit his lip nervously. He wasn't much good at reading the atmosphere, but even an illiterate could tell that Lovino was about to get mad. "I know, I've been-"

"What the actual fuck?" Lovino turned around, and Antonio could see the shadows on his face, the red rings around his eyes, and the hurt that shone within them. He wasn't shouting, but the strength of emotion in his words was worse than any level of volume, and louder than any cry. "You expect me to believe that all this happened just because you were dumb enough to pick up the wrong fucking note?"

Antonio took a step back. "Lovi, I'm sor-"

"You already said that," Lovino interrupted. "And it's not going to work this time. It's just not enough. You would think, that with something as important as trying to convince your friends you're not delusional, you would _check_ what you were doing. You would think, that after all we've been through together, that you would _trust_ me." His voice began to slowly increase in volume, and his golden-brown eyes blazed with fury. "But you obviously don't! And then you have the nerve to come back, and to ask for forgiveness like this was just a little accident? Look around you, Antonio! Does this look like an _accident _to you? Does this look like anywhere that can be repaired? Do you even realise how much you _broke my heart_?" Hot, bitter tears began to fall from Lovino's eyes, each shimmering droplet striking Antonio's heart with pain. He had caused them to fall.

"Lovi, please," Antonio implored, trying to catch Lovino's eyes. "I know this isn't a small deal. Anything but. And yes, it _was _accidental, but certainly not the sort of accident that can be glazed over immediately. I'm sorry for what happened, and I'm willing to do anything to make things right. You need only name it, Lovi. N-nothing is worth more to me than you. I went to pieces over this – it's hurt more than anything I've known. And...and that's because I love you, Lovino. The possibility of being apart from you, and worse, of you hating me, is what I dread the most. Please, Lovi. I know this will take time to heal, but can we please try?" Antonio was well aware of his words falling over each other, and the sentences failing to connect, but he hoped that his meaning, and his emotion, would be conveyed.

Lovino folded his arms and glared daggers at the Spaniard. The wind had dropped and the world was deadly silent. Even last night, Antonio hadn't been as scared as he was now.

For perhaps a fraction of a second, Lovino's hostile expression wavered, as if he was considering giving in. But then the glare came back in force. "No. I can't. It's just...it's..." Lovino shut his eyes and swallowed, regaining his strength. "Get out. Don't come back. Don't ever come back. I...I never want to see you again."

Before Antonio could react, he turned and ran, speeding quickly away with one hand raised to his face. For a split second Antonio was motionless, then his brain reconnected and he stumbled after the Italian, crying desperately for him to stop, for him to reconsider.

But Lovino was fast, Antonio knew this vaguely from their days on the school football team, and more so from the time they'd spent together recently.

Antonio hoped beyond hopes that he could catch Lovino up, like on that fateful day when they first declared their love for each other, and somehow everything would be alright. But his stupid legs refused to obey, quickly becoming limp and useless, and after a dozen desperate steps they gave in altogether, catapulting the heartbroken Antonio to the floor. Ash sprayed into his eyes upon impact, stinging hard and rendering him blind, but it didn't hurt half as much as the molten chains that were burrowing further and further into his chest.

* * *

><p>Aw. Poor Toni. Seriously, I almost cried on the final proof-read-through for this chap.<br>Thank you to everyone who's reviewed~! Yay!  
>And, to answer my first anon review, I'm English, and both sceptic and skeptic are used, as far as I'm aware.<p>

Until next time... ;)


	16. Some Welcome Advice

Antonio knelt in the middle of the field, frozen both by the frigid air and by his own devastation. The speck of a figure that was Lovino had long since disappeared into the ash-smeared distance, but Antonio couldn't take his eyes off the place where he'd last been visible, desperately hanging onto the futile hope that he'd come back. But he knew in his heart that he wouldn't. And finding him would be beyond impossible; reconciliation more hopeless still.

His heart felt like it had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and replaced with poisonous shards, and yet the only pain he could think of was Lovino's. He'd willingly suffer a hundred times worse just for time to be turned back and for Lovino's pain to be healed. And in the back of his mind, part of him just wanted to die and end this whole living nightmare, but that would only condemn him here forever, knowing that Lovino was here somewhere, and would hate and avoid him for eternity. There seemed to be no way out, no way in which either of them could be happy.

He hadn't even had the chance to give Feliciano's letter to Lovino. Poor Feli would be devastated.

What could he do now? What _should_ he do now? Would searching Lovino out help repair their shattered relationship slightly, or would it just make everything even worse than it already was? Either way, Antonio's legs were refusing to move, staying as still as ice and twice as cold, yet they felt to have all the consistency of warm jelly.

Antonio just wished Lovino would come back.

He'd do anything for Lovino to come back.

"Stubborn little guy, isn't he?" asked a deep, melodious voice suddenly.

Antonio almost jumped out of his skin at the unanticipated words, falling over onto his backside as he attempted to turn and see who had spoken. Another person was the last thing he'd expected here; Lovino was the only person in his heaven. If you could still call it that now. But, against all expectations, there was another man standing about ten feet away; about thirty-ish, perhaps, with untamed brown curls dancing around his ears, sparkling brown eyes and a perfect white smile. He was wearing a loose white dress shirt, which was half unbuttoned to show off his chest muscles, stylish dark jeans, and, strangely, a long flowing red cape tied at the shoulder with an elaborate golden clasp. Strangely enough, he looked completely unaffected by the soot and ash. Even his shoes were spotless and gleaming.

He seemed somewhat familiar, but Antonio was sure they'd never met before.

When the stunned Antonio didn't reply, the older man laughed, a cheerful, joyous sound, and wandered closer. "What's up? Oh, yeah, of course, that. But anyway. You are Antonio, right? I'm not approaching the wrong person here, am I?"

Antonio nodded uncertainly, throat still constricted. "Yeah, I'm Antonio." He wondered how this strange man knew who he was, and more specifically, why he was interested in him. Could this be another trap?

The other gave that blinding grin again. "Excellent. I don't sound like a madman then. I'm Romulus, by the way. Apologies that we haven't met sooner, but I found some...interesting people." He chuckled, momentarily casting his mind back, and Antonio wondered what inside joke he was missing out on.

Then it clicked. Romulus had the same olive-brown eyes as Lovino, the same soft chocolate hair, the same tanned Mediterranean good looks. Romulus, aka Grandpa Roma, Lovino's beloved but often absent _nonno_.

With a tired smile, Romulus dropped down onto the ground next to Antonio, sending up a puff of black dust which spattered onto Antonio, but somehow avoided the older man entirely. "Awkward situation, this, isn't it. Not the best way you'd like to meet someone for the first time. Now, I'd like to hear things from your perspective, before I decide whether or not to kick your ass for hurting my grandson."

Antonio gulped, eying the larger man's sculpted physique. He didn't fancy his chances in a fight against Romulus. The guy was half as big again as he was, and it was all muscle. Antonio didn't know if it was just the effect of heaven, or if Romulus actually looked like that, but he certainly didn't look like he could be a grandfather. Barely old enough to be Lovino's _father_, in fact.

But then, a sharp thought cut through his musings, louder than a drum. Wouldn't Lovino's grandfather, the only other person here, be useful when trying to reconcile with Lovino? He wouldn't be able to tell Lovino to forgive Antonio, and Antonio didn't want that anyway, but he may be able to help Antonio to explain to Lovino and try getting him to reconcile.

So Antonio talked. He told Romulus about how Lovino was killed saving him from that truck all those weeks ago. He spoke about how suddenly he'd began waking up here whenever he fell asleep, and how he'd met and fallen in love with Lovino, and how their relationship had blossomed over the past month. He recounted when his friends had staged an intervention to deal with how much he'd been sleeping and how he'd been wrecking his life. And, in a quiet, pained voice, he described how he'd hurt Lovino in his confusion, their fight, their heartbreak, and that the young Italian refused to forgive him.

And Romulus listened, not saying a word throughout Antonio's story, just watching him carefully with bright olive eyes. When Antonio finished, he sat there, tapping the fingers of one hand thoughtfully on one denim-clad knee.

He was silent for a very long time. Antonio was beginning to get very nervous, but kept quiet for fear that Romulus might actually carry out the 'kick your ass for hurting my grandson' threat. The wind whistled in the background, which was slightly strange as there were no longer any trees, and Antonio tried not to feel too unnerved.

Finally, Romulus sighed and turned to face Antonio with distraught brown eyes. "Well, Toni – can I call you Toni? I have to say; you really screwed up royal here. You know how bad you hurt my Lovino, you've seen the effects of it. No one wants to be told they're not real, especially by someone close to them. But...I can't exactly blame you, either. It was more of a very unfortunate misunderstanding." He rubbed the brown stubble on his chin with a calloused hand, wearing a curious expression that was halfway between resigned and saddened. "I found Lovino this morning, you know. I like to try keep an eye on him, even if it is just sensing where he is every so often and whether he's happy. Not that it's easy to be unhappy here. As far as I know, this is a first. But earlier...he was just sat still on the steps to our old house, completely silent. He wasn't crying, but it was pretty obvious that he had been. But even when I asked him what had happened, he wouldn't say a word, just kept staring blankly into the distance, occasionally muttering something I couldn't catch. So, to try find out, I switched my view for a moment to see the world from Lovino's point of view. In short, as you can probably see it, this has utterly destroyed him." For a brief second, Romulus' eyes flashed, and Antonio's heart temporarily stopped at the anger that flickered momentarily across the elder's face, knowing full well at whom it would be aimed if released.

"I'm sorry," Antonio said quietly, once his heart had returned to its regular calm pace. "I never meant for this to happen. I'd do anything for Lovi to be alright."

Romulus looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and bluntly replied, "Would you now? I'll tell you something, Toni. I reckon one way to solve this would be to find a way for you to never come back here and for Lovino to never see you again and work through this through time and the ways of this place, the ways that try to keep you happy. All without you."

Antonio couldn't believe it. Romulus had completely shot him down. No, worse, he'd said that he was never to see Lovino again, that they would be bad for each other. Antonio felt like he'd been struck by a tank. His breathing didn't seem to be working properly; his vision was spinning and his blood had been replaced by tiny razor-sharp needles. Was he really to never see Lovino again?

A bright, cheery sound caught his ears and he looked up, confused, to see Romulus in fits of laughter, having caught sight of Antonio's devastated expression. "Oh, you are priceless, Toni! I was _joking_! No need to have a heart attack!" He burst into another round of melodious laughter, clutching his knees to keep his balance as the mirthful sounds rocked his body.

Antonio blushed. He should have seen that Romulus wasn't serious. But, to be honest, being laughed at so much was rather insulting. He'd been through a lot lately; he wasn't in the right state of mind to have jokes made at his expense.

Romulus spotted Antonio's expression again, this time it was somewhat more irked, and ceased his laughing. "Sorry, Toni. Couldn't help it. But I'll tell you something else; this shows that you really do still care about Lovino. And, as his grandfather, that means a lot."

Antonio smiled, but it was a cautious half-smile. He still wasn't quite sure of Romulus' stance on the current situation; he kept switching between opposite sides, and it was more beginning to hurt his tired brain. "Of course I care about Lovi. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Even if I didn't realise it until it was too late, and then screwed everything up." It hurt to say that, even more than it did to think it, and time was not making it any easier.

"Yup," Romulus agreed. And he said nothing further.

Antonio bit his lip, eyes darting nervously from Romulus to the ashy floor to the pale grey deepness of the sky, wondering if he was supposed to say anything. The fierce wind whistled around the exposed field, and Antonio realised how cold he was again. He hugged his arms closer to himself and wished uselessly that it would get warmer. Or at least that Romulus would say something again. Antonio couldn't really blame him though. They'd only just met, after all. But still, it was rather awkward, being sat next to someone whom you weren't sure whether they disliked you or not.

"You want to know something, Toni?" Romulus asked finally, once the silence was beginning to get tense. "I'm no psychologist, but that's a bit of reasoning behind why Lovino's not taking this well. Lovino's never been a particularly strong person. Sure, he can put up a hell of a fight when he's roused, and he's got a stubbornness to rival the proverbial mule, but when it comes to relationships, and especially those involving affection, he's not all that good at coping. Never really been close to anyone, not even his family. He's always felt shadowed by Feliciano. There's a name for that, but I can't remember what it was. Told you I'm not a psychologist. But it basically means that the poor kid always felt like no one really loved him, even when they did, they really did. So he shuts people out, and doesn't make many friends, never allowing himself to show affection for anyone. And then you come along, breaking down his walls and working your way into his mind, or something like that. Gave his heart to you, I reckon he did. Not literally though. But anyway, he finally begins to trust you, and then you hairpin turn around and break his heart. Not good mentally, that was. And 'cos he doesn't know how to cope, he just does what he normally would; shut himself off from everything and everyone, even me. Being alone makes everything more sad, though. And that leads me to another question; how the hell is it possible to be sad in heaven?"

Antonio nodded. "I was wondering that too."

"Mmm. And that's why this has gotta be set right soon as possible. If it's not happened before, well...s'probably going to screw the place up a bit. Which will really not be good, by my reckoning. But I dunno much about how this place works, so the damage could be nothing, or beyond comprehension. So it's probably not good if Lovino's sad."

_Really, _ Antonio thought sarcastically, but kept this observation to himself. It wouldn't do to hurt Romulus for no reason. And once again, he was confusing himself with the mammoth task of trying to understand how heaven worked, and why he only saw how Lovino had moulded the world, not how anyone else did. It was strange; he'd been visiting every day for a month, and yet he still knew barely anything about the place. He'd just been more interested in Lovino.

Romulus ran a hand remorsefully across the gleaming material of his cape, the crimson fabric rippling under his strong fingers. "My poor boy," he sighed. "But love is tough. Love hurts. It tests you to your very limits, and often beyond, to the point your heart can take no more. Even in death, it seems. You wouldn't think so, but it is. Even in a place that's meant to be happy, it hurts. And they say that time heals all wounds, but it also seals opinions, and with Lovino, that will be near impossible to overcome when it happens."

"So what should I do?" Antonio asked in exasperation. The conversation just seemed to be wandering in circles, he was now freezing, and somewhere out here was a heartbroken Lovino who was in dire need of a hug or five. Even though he knew what would be coming, he just had to go get up and do something.

Romulus shrugged. "That's up to you, Toni. Only you can fix this. It's like a painting that's had its colour smudged. Others can try cover it up, or make a new copy, but only the original artist can bring it back to its former glory. But, you'll only have one shot at it. Time's ticking away, and Lovino's not on the best of terms with you. Well, I say that. You'll have to see whether or not it's true. And remember, even when everything has fallen, there is always something that remains." And on that cryptic note, he stood up and began walking off, much to Antonio's confusion.

"Hey, wait!" Antonio called, scrambling to his feet despite the screaming protests of his reluctant limbs. But his body was too cold to respond, blood struggling to reach his tingling muscles as his system fought to keep his core warm, and his movements came out sluggish and clumsy.

Romulus turned, but kept walking away backwards. "Good luck, Toni. You set things right with my grandson, ok?" Antonio stood powerless as Romulus turned back, unable to respond and knowing he had no chance of catching up for the second time that night. Romulus' figure slowly got more blurry, notable only by his cloak rippling in the wind as he walked onwards into the mist and ash. And all of a sudden, he disappeared, leaving only a Romulus-shaped hole in the air, and a knot of confusion in Antonio's heart.

Time was ticking on. What time was it, and more importantly, how much was left? Antonio knew the answer to neither of these questions, and cursed his lack of a watch even more than his lack of a jacket. But, he knew the solution to both was to get going, and fast. Somewhere out there was Lovino, and Antonio was going to find him again, and make this disaster right.

He had to.

* * *

><p>A wild Rome appeared! What will Antonio do?<br>Ah, Pokémon references. Where would life be without them?

Short chapter, this. But that's 'cos I want to get the next one done properly, as it's an important chapter.


	17. All That Remains

Through the cold, merciless winds and the choking ash-laden air Antonio forged onward, ignoring the continuous protests from his swollen ankle and frozen muscles. He searched under every crevice, behind every nook, across every field. Any time the possibility of giving up, or even pausing, appeared in his head, he only needed to think of how Lovino felt to be running back across the senseless landscape with renewed pace.

But his efforts were so far proving fruitless, and tension was rising faster than ever in his panic-streaked heart. Thoughts tumbled endlessly around his confused and contorted mind and, as his anxiety grew, his methods grew ever more slapdash, until Antonio found himself where the town used to be, with despair clogging his veins and no idea where he had and hadn't searched.

He collapsed on the flattened and charred remains of a stone bench, finally allowing his constricted throat a chance to breathe and hack the ash out of his lungs. Running for hours – at least it had seemed like hours – in this air surely wasn't healthy. Even if he wasn't actually _here_, it was more than clear that the effects transferred back to the normal world, and he didn't fancy waking up with a mouthful of soot.

But, as much as his throat burned, it wasn't the first thing on his mind, or even the most painful. A horrible, empty sense of loss was slowly beginning to suffocate him from his very core. And Antonio knew it was only a matter of time before he woke up and it completely consumed him. He was going to let himself down, let his friends down, let Romulus down. And Lovino's grandfather had really seemed to believe in him.

Even if he hadn't made any sense half the time.

Admittedly, the elder Italian had given Antonio some useful advice, as well as a pivotal insight into Lovino's mindframe, but all of that would be useless if Antonio couldn't find Lovino. There must have been some way for Romulus to locate Lovino – he'd pretty blatantly hinted at it – so why hadn't he told Antonio? If he wanted his grandson to be happy, or at least for this to be over once and for all, he'd have at least said _something_.

Antonio shook his head pointlessly and stared out at the deserted fields, listening to the haunting echo of the wind whistling around the hills. It almost seemed to have a tune to it, a gentle, harrowing melody that was the perfect accompaniment to the hopeless situation. But then, it would do, it would suit how Lovino felt, and currently that was far from happy. And Antonio felt even worse when he remembered, for perhaps the millionth time, that it was his fault.

To the bottom of a dark pit, they had both fallen, forever destined to be apart.

_And remember, even when everything has fallen, there is always something that remains_. The words echoed through Antonio's mind as his sombre thoughts awakened his slumbering memory. Romulus had said them earlier, just before he left, but with no explanation. What had pretty much been his final words to Antonio, what could have been something really helpful in making up with Lovino, was actually complete philosophical gibberish. Thanks, Romulus.

Antonio bolted up ramrod straight as a thought struck him. Wait. Could it have been a clue of where he could find Lovino? Antonio sighed tiredly. Well, there was no harm in trying. He'd pretty much exhausted all other possibilities, aside from continued haphazard searching, and he had to be running within an hour or two of seven o'clock now. He'd never viewed the prospect of waking up to be scary before, but now it really was. His time was running out fast, and he could feel the familiar light-headed and numbness that overwhelmed him when he thought of Lovino hating him forever.

Well, if what Romulus said had been a clue, what had remained when everything else had fallen?

Trying to pick back up the determination he'd had earlier, Antonio looked around, scouring the bleak obsidian fields for even the slightest sign of something out of place against the devastation. Nothing stood out. The landscape was how it had been for the entire time Antonio had been there; black, plain and deserted. What would be as it had been before after all of this, and, more importantly, why would Lovino be there in the first place?

Then it hit him. The one place that hadn't been properly hit by the warp earlier, the one place that had only had its surroundings affected, not its form. The one place that always seemed to be _apart_ from everything else, innocent and unique. A locked chest in Lovino's mind, a secret hideout, a read-only file, an unreachable star.

The fountain.

As if he'd been struck by lightning, Antonio leapt to his feet, depleted batteries instantly recharged, and started off running towards the house, oblivious to the uneven ground threatening to trip him at every step. Guided by his capricious internal navigation, he leapt over rocks and ash, flashing feet barely touching the ground and his eyes firmly fixed on the horizon and his goal. He hoped beyond the most impossible of hopes that the fountain was there, that Lovino was there, that his hunch was right.

But, to Antonio's surprise and relief, the fountain was indeed still there, surrounded by scuffed and broken pathways that were all that remained of the maze. Clearly it too had been harshly affected by the transformation of the world. Crystal clear water no longer gushed in waves from its top and off the sides, and bedraggled brown weeds had grown around its edge and up the middle. It, like everything else, was covered in a fine layer of mud and ash, and the once proud stone base was cracked in several places. It looked like it had been abandoned for years.

Yet this wasn't what caught Antonio's attention. For at the base of the fountain, looking almost like a spectre, sat a figure slumped against the broken stone. Although shadowed, grimy and motionless, it was obvious even to someone who didn't know the world's lack of population that it was Lovino.

Antonio swallowed, fighting the terror in his mind and the strange tingling rising in his limbs as he padded closer, almost stalking across the ash-strewn grass. The slightest noise could scare Lovino off before Antonio could say something.

Once he was within ten feet, he stopped, pausing to focus his mind. This was the last place where he wanted to break down. Or maybe it was just procrastination, drawn from insecurity. Now that he was here, he had little idea what to do, what to say, where to start. The words of apology that had been circling in his brain suddenly seemed imperfect and inappropriate, and he just stood there anxiously. Luckily, Lovino's mind seemed to be far elsewhere, for the Italian remained oblivious to Antonio's presence. Antonio wanted nothing more than to close the final distance between the two, envelop the younger in a powerful hug and press kiss after kiss to his face and lips until Lovino understood just how sorry he was and how much he loved him. But situations were never solved like that – even Antonio knew this. He was balanced on a knife-edge in a blistering wind, and the slightest wrong move would send him falling to oblivion.

Time for the moment of truth. He couldn't delay it any longer.

"Lovino?" Antonio tried to say, but his voice came out as little more than a croak, barely audible to his own ears, let alone Lovino's. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Lovi?"

Instantly, Lovino jolted out of his trance-like state, his eyes flicking wide open and swivelling to face Antonio with a look of disbelief and anger on his pale face. "The hell? What part of 'I don't want to see you again' don't you fucking understand, bastard?" he spat, scrambling to his feet and glaring hard at Antonio, trembling hands curling into fists by his sides.

Antonio swallowed, unsure as to whether Lovino was about to completely flip out or not. "Probably the 'don't'," he replied, surprised at how even his voice sounded when his mind still felt in a tumultuous whirl. He hadn't planned to say that line, and it was an awfully risky presumption. Everything he had planned to say evacuated his head in a panicked frenzy, and he was just left with disorganised fragments echoing as he paused in uncertainty. "Lovi...please just give me one last chance. I'm so sorry for hurting you. That's been the worst part of this. Not my mistakes, not how much I hurt, not the thought that you hated me, but how much I hurt you. I...I know it's hard for you to trust people, and I betrayed that trust with what I did. And for that, I am deeply sorry. I honestly would never say something like that unless all the evidence pointed in that direction, and even then it was inexcusable. I'm not sure if I deserve forgiveness, even though it was an honest mistake, but whatever happens, I don't want you to suffer. You don't need to shut yourself off like this, Lovi. You'll just be so much worse for it." Antonio sighed, knowing what he was saying probably made no sense, but carrying on regardless. "Hell, I don't even care if you don't forgive me, as long as you're happy again, Lovi. I can't bear to see you this way, and I would much prefer for you to hate me, banish me from here somehow and be alright, than to forgive me and still be sad. I...I know you're hurting, Lovi, but if you hated me, surely you wouldn't be torturing yourself like this? If you hated me, wouldn't you have just exacted your revenge again like yesterday, but this time gone through with it properly?" Antonio was mentally hitting himself at letting his mouth run away with itself here. It really wouldn't be a good idea to remind Lovino of what he hadn't quite accomplished yesterday.

"Tch," Lovino muttered dismissively, face still creased in a glare. "Don't think much of me, do you, bastard? You weren't intended to fucking _die,_ damn it. Didn't you notice how you fell into the water as your alarm clock went off? Sure, I was pissed – am pissed – and I hate your fucking guts, but I don't want you dead. Yet," he added darkly.

Antonio was beyond reassured at this – Lovino hadn't been trying to kill him after all, and it meant that a part of him, a part of no little significance, still cared for him. And it was this part that Antonio had to coax back out. Easier said than done.

He smiled, but gently, cautiously. "I'm glad, Lovi. That you don't want me dead, that is. It's a start, at least."

Lovino scoffed, folding his arms and giving Antonio that heart-wrenching expression of marbled hurt, sorrow and anger. "A start? Of what, exactly? 'Cos it certainly isn't forgiveness, damn it! You can't just turn up and spout a load of nonsensical bullshit at me and expect me to just forget all this happened. _Che palle!_ Nothing you've said from the start has made the slightest bit of sense, and I've about had it with you. I'm saying this one final time; get the fuck out of here and never talk to me again." He spun swiftly on one heel and started striding away through the thick ash as the sky darkened once more and the already faint light dimmed further.

Antonio could feel his heart snap at the words, and it took a few seconds and everything he had to be able to react.

"Lovi, wait!" Antonio called desperately, and, to his surprise, the Italian paused, his expression doubtful. Antonio dug in his pocket and extended the folded piece of paper from within to Lovino. "If you won't believe me, at least believe Feliciano, please. You ran before I had a chance to give this to you earlier, but he wrote a letter for you. Are you so mad at me that you'll deny your brother too?" Antonio looked pleadingly at Lovino, half dreading that he would just turn back walk away from this without reading. Which would be devastating for both of the separated brothers, even if the elder would naturally deny it.

It was several seconds before Lovino responded, eyeing the note with a wary stare. But eventually, he turned back, cautiously took the letter from Antonio and retreated back to a safe distance a few metres away, much to Antonio's unspoken disappointment. Standing back by the dilapidated fountain, he unfolded the paper and silently began to read, golden-brown eyes flicking back and forth in the growing light.

Once again, uncertainty rose in Antonio's blood, clamping icy tendrils around his mind. Every moment seemed like eternity. He hadn't read Feliciano's letter, partly out of respect for their privacy, partly down to the fact it hadn't crossed his mind at first, and he had no idea of what it contained, let alone whether it would in any way change Lovino's mind. Yes, Lovino trusted his brother, but did he trust Antonio not to have faked the letter? And was it written well enough to convince him of what had happened? The world felt like it had dissolved away until only Lovino and himself remained. Even the bitter wind had dropped, although Antonio was too tense to shiver as the residual chill nipped at his skin.

Perhaps two minutes later, but what felt like two long and painful hours, Lovino pocketed the letter and looked back up at Antonio, his expression conflicted but overall indecipherable. But he didn't reply, just stood there, blinking, as if waiting for some sort of justification.

At least he wasn't running away. Feliciano must have said something important, at least. But this really put the pressure on whatever Antonio was about to say next, as it was quite probably his final chance before Lovino made his decision. Even though Antonio felt like he'd had several final chances today, the pressure was almost killing him, and, if it didn't, then Lovino's answer possibly would.

Antonio released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and spoke up, feeling like there was a ten-tonne weight sat atop his shoulders. "Lovi, I don't know what else I can say that I haven't said to you already, so...this is how it is. I'm sorry for what happened, and how I hurt you. I never wanted to see you like this, especially not to have caused it. Anything that I can do to make this right, I will do. No matter how what it is or long it takes. I love you more than I ever possibly thought I could love someone. So, I'll let you have the final word on this, but please, make the decision that will make you happy. If...if you would really prefer it if I just avoided you from now on, I'll never come near you again, no matter how much that will hurt me. But, if you choose to forgive this idiot for his stupid misconceptions, then I promise, on everything that I am, that I have, and that I ever will be, that I will make this up to you, and that this will never, ever happen again. You are the love of my life, and if there is a part of you that still loves me, then..." Antonio's voice faded out, but his meaning was more than clear.

The longest silence passed once again between them as the two locked eyes; pleading emerald staring lovingly into inscrutable hazel. Antonio was almost despairing, as he couldn't find even the slightest hint at what Lovino was thinking and he could almost feel the world beginning to sway beneath his feet. He couldn't break the frozen eye contact between himself and Lovino, watching the unmoving orbs sparkle hypnotically in the breaking sunlight. With everything he had he was trying to convey some sort of emotion to Lovino's motionless face.

Finally, Lovino sighed tersely and resumed his familiar glare. "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. You are quite possibly the biggest idiot I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. There are no words to describe just how utterly _stupid _your actions have been, or the extent to how that affected me, and I'm not going to try find them. Normally in this situation, I would just punch you in the face and run, never to see you again, and a large part of me is tempted to do just that. It's probably the wiser idea. However..." Here Lovino sighed again and paused, as if contemplating his words. Antonio held his breath, anxious, fragile heart jumping into his throat. The lack of swear words had made Lovino's speech more potent than anger could have, and it was clear every word was deliberate and precise, so much so that they were almost like knives. "However. For quite possibly the first time in your life, you're right. I ought to do what makes me happy, for once."

Antonio swallowed. "And that is?" he asked tentatively, his voice choked and little more than a whisper above the silent atmosphere.

There was another short, terrifying pause, then Lovino stepped forward, hands on his hips, his expression still hard and unrevealing. "That, while you may be an idiot, you..." He sighed in exasperation. "Ah, fuck it. You're the one that makes me happy, alright? And I can't really blame you entirely for this. No one, least of all dumbass gullible Spaniards, is perfect, especially when they're being duped by two potato bastards and a pervert. Plus, it's pretty clear you're sorry about this whole ordeal. If I'd have put my mind to it, it's quite possibly you'd have been on your knees and begging me to forgive you." He paused again and drew a deep breath. "But the main thing is, and always has been, is what I told you at the start of this whole fucking ordeal. I'm not quite sure why, but... _Anch'io ti amo, bastardo_."

The most unbelievable wave of relief washed over Antonio, knocking his mind senseless, and he felt like collapsing. It was a beautiful, stunning, indescribable explosion of happiness as a full spectrum of colour burst back into his world. Unable to find words, Antonio leapt forward and pulled Lovino into a tight hug, never wanting to let go again, and buried his head into the crook of Lovino's neck before the Italian could quite comprehend what was happening. But, after a few moments, Lovino slipped his arms around Antonio's back and quietly muttered, "Idiot." Antonio had to agree. But he was a happy idiot, a loved idiot, and in the end that was all he wanted.

It had been worth all this searching, all this uncertainty, just to be here in this moment.

Antonio could have happily stayed there hugging Lovino forever, soft hair nuzzling his face, warm body pressed against his own, but after a few amazing, spinning minutes, Lovino shifted slightly and Antonio guessed that was probably a cue to let go. He complied, but somewhat reluctantly, realising that it wasn't a good idea to push his luck too far at the moment.

Bright sunlight pierced his retinas as he pulled away and reopened his eyes. Antonio squinted, blinking hard, and for a moment wondered if he'd been teleported to yet another world. All trace of darkness and ash had vanished completely, replaced by the soft, verdant grass that had carpeted the land previously. The golden sunlight sparkled down from the azure blue sky, eliminating the chill wind and bringing back the soft, welcoming warmth of before. Little seedlings, the beginnings of the maze, were patterned across the ground and gradually stretching skyward.

Mouth half open in awe, Antonio looked around dazedly before his eyes came to rest on Lovino, who was scowling again and stubbornly refusing to look Antonio in the eye. His form hadn't improved as much as the world had, as there were still dark marks under his eyes, but his eyes were brighter and there was more of a lustre to his previously bedraggled hair.

"Not a word, bastard," he warned. "Not a word."

Antonio smiled and took Lovino's hands in his. "Aw. So cute~." He was so glad the world was repaired, or at least on its way to being so, and he felt that if one more thing improved even slightly he would burst from an overload of euphoria.

"Shut the fuck up," Lovino glared. But Antonio didn't mind the glare. Lovino was happy; that much was obvious, and that was all that mattered. Or at least happier. Things wouldn't be completely back to normal for a while – Lovino was good at holding grudges, either secretly or subconsciously – and it would take time before he completely trusted Antonio again, but Antonio was happy to wait for that. It was more than he deserved for being such a fool.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Lovino poking him in the arm and gesturing back in the direction of the house behind them. "Oi, bastard. I'm going, 'cos otherwise this maze is going to grow again and I can't be arsed to get lost at the moment. You coming or not?"

Antonio nodded and chased excitedly after Lovino as the younger strode away. He felt like taking Lovino by the arms and swinging him around the garden in a crazed, euphoric dance until they both collapsed from laughter and exhaustion. But Antonio doubted that Lovino felt like complying with that at the moment, and, besides, he was perfectly content how he was, walking beside Lovino and watching how the world slowly began to repair itself. He knew there would be some structural damage elsewhere, damage that would take time and healing before it was as strong as it was before, but Antonio didn't mind the wait, and wanted to be there every step of the way and watch it grow more beautiful than it had ever been.

Antonio stretched out one hand and entwined his fingers in Lovino's as the two walked back towards the house, careful to avoid the delicate little saplings of the maze as they took the birds-eye route instead of following the scuffed pathways. He gave Lovino a blinding grin, only a tiny fragment of a display of the happiness he felt at that moment. "You feeling better, Lovi?"

"Hmph." Lovino scowled, but didn't withdraw his fingers from Antonio's, for which the Spaniard was thankful. "You're just lucky that fratellino makes more sense than you, jerk. He may be an idiot, but at least he can tell a story from start to finish. I didn't get what the hell had happened before I read his note, apart from you'd somehow managed to lose that stupid letter I gave you. Useless bastard."

"But everything's ok now, right, Lovi?" Antonio asked urgently.

Lovino gave him an evil smirk, eyes glinting a hundred shades in the sunlight. "Oh, not just yet. I'm still thinking of the ways in which you can make it up to me. You _did _say anything, didn't you, bastard?" He chuckled mischievously and Antonio suddenly felt a shiver of nervousness run up his spine as he thought of the arduous and possibly humiliating scenarios that Lovino was bound to come up with until he felt justified. Not that Antonio was going to back out of this now, mind. He'd said anything, and he was going to go through with it, as Lovino was worth more than anything he could put Antonio through.

Although, part of himself was still rather annoyed at never actually explaining anything to Lovino. He'd gotten so caught up in apologising that he forgot that Lovino didn't know everything that had happened, only the confused fragments that Antonio had been spouting. Lucky for them both, Feliciano seemed to have gone into a much deeper explanation. Antonio wondered what the note had said, but was far too afraid of seeming rude or presumptuous to ask Lovino if he could have a read.

The two settled in the flower garden of Lovino's grandfather's house, watching peacefully as the colour sedately burst once again into the surroundings. The house seemed to be restoring itself quite fast, but, at Antonio's guess at least, it would do so, as Lovino's past wouldn't have been affected by the recent happenings. Neither of the pair said anything much, partly out of content, partly out of uncertainty. Antonio wasn't entirely sure if things were completely back to normal yet, and Lovino seemed to still be his usual insecure and stubborn self, wondering if he'd made the right decision and thinking it over in his mind. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable, and too many words felt like they would overcomplicate things, so they just sat together, appreciating and thinking.

But, after a short time sat by the slowly blooming patterns of vivid colour, Antonio remembered how things had been when he'd left, and the ending of their current situation. "What time is it?" he asked Lovino hesitantly, dreading the answer. Now things were back to how they'd been, or at least they would be in time, he was back to his previous desire of not wanting to leave.

Lovino looked up, surprised. "Quarter to seven, or about that," he replied. "In the morning. Why? You don't wake up for hours on Saturdays."

"Not today," Antonio sighed, mentally gasping in relief at how close he'd cut things. He slipped an arm around Lovino's waist and resting his head against Lovino's. "I'm being woken at seven sharp today. It was part of the emergency plan to stop a repeat of last night."

"What? Emergency plan?" Lovino asked incredulously. It was clear Antonio had lost him again.

"Ludwig, Feli, Franny and Gil are over keeping an eye on me. I kinda got a bit hurt yesterday and they were worried it'd happen again," Antonio explained quickly, half afraid Lovino would run away if it sounded like he was making excuses for leaving.

Lovino scowled and muttered something incomprehensible that sounded vaguely like '_mi dispiace_', deliberately avoiding Antonio's eyes. Antonio ran a hand gently through Lovino's hair and murmured, "So cute."

"Shut up, damn it," Lovino growled, swatting at Antonio's invading hand. "I'm not cute."

Antonio deftly caught the attacking hand and laced the fingers between his own. "Oh yes you are," Antonio smiled. "Like a little tomato."

Lovino shook his head and slammed his forehead into his spare palm. "Why. The fuck. Do I bother," he muttered. "You crazy jerk. So Feli and the bastards are all on nightwatch guard duty then?"

"_Sí_," Antonio nodded. "Or at least two of them will be. They'll have to sleep at some point, I think it was in shifts." He couldn't really remember much of what had happened then; he'd been a bit too preoccupied with his own worries for any of the words to penetrate his ears, let alone his brain.

"Tell them they're paranoid idiots," Lovino replied, blunt as always. "Not that I'm in the least bit bothered, damn it. The point of this place is so I can be by myself. No Spanish bastards to annoy me. Can't wait for that to be back."

"Well, if that's the case, shouldn't we just enjoy the short amount of time we have left, then?" Antonio asked, slightly mournfully, although he knew Lovino wasn't being serious – he just didn't like admitting to things. Especially after events like this had just happened; he was very reluctant to open himself up.

Lovino sighed. "Fine. But only because I can't be bothered to move anywhere else, bastard. Oh, and tell Feli I'll write him back tomorrow. Don't have time now."

"Of course, _mi cariño_," Antonio replied. "I'm sure he'll be delighted."

Lovino shrugged. "It's not exactly hard to make Feliciano happy. He's delighted if you make him a plate of pasta, or even just tell him hello one morning. Stupid cheerful bastard."

Antonio laughed. "He just likes looking on the bright side, finding good in the little things. It's his way, I guess. But a letter from his brother, who he hasn't seen in a month, will really cheer him up, even more than normal."

"Whatever," Lovino shrugged. "I told you, I don't have time now. There's only-" Lovino broke off mid-sentence and looked down, suddenly unsure. "It's six fifty-eight, bastard. If the potato jerk's taken charge, then everything's gonna be done precise. So you're gone in less than a hundred and twenty seconds." His cheeks lit up crimson. "I mean, thank God for that."

Antonio sighed. In the beginning he'd been thinking seven was far too late to be woken up, and now, it was several hours too early. But he tried not to let the disappointment affect him too much for their last two minutes. "Well, I guess it's goodbye for a while, Lovi." He shuffled slightly closer and pulled Lovino into a tight hug, trying to convey so many thoughts into the one simple action. Admittedly he'd see Lovino again later that night, but right now it felt to be weeks away as opposed to hours. Too soon to be parted after being happily reunited.

After a growl and a scattering of muttered profanities, Lovino returned the embrace, but it didn't last long before Antonio tilted the younger's head up and brought their lips together in a sweet kiss. It was more gentle than it had been previously, chaste and cautious, but Antonio could sense the silent longing that was hiding in Lovino's mind. It, once again, was something he never wanted to end, but Antonio had only seconds to say goodbye now. So he pulled away, noting with delight the look of disappointment that flickered across Lovino's face for a fraction of a second.

"Until the day ends, then, _mi amor_," Antonio breathed softly, staring into the depths of Lovino's beautiful golden-brown eyes. He only had time to see Lovino nod slowly before there was a strange, disconnected shaking and the world blurred and plummeted down hard through his stomach.

XxxxX

Dismayed and disorientated, Antonio sat up, waiting for the stars to stop chasing each other from in front of his eyes. A confused tangle of voices was assaulting his ears, but failing to make any sense. It all sounded rather far away, but something felt close, gently covering him. He moaned quietly, rubbed his eyes, and suddenly the world spun into full focus.

With a pair of worried golden eyes staring two inches from his face. Antonio let out a yelp and jumped backwards in shock, before realising it was just Feliciano failing to understand the concept of personal space. Two sheets and a thickish blanket fell away from his body as he wriggled out from under them, his shoulders banging painfully into the headboard after he'd moved less than a foot.

"Feliciano, give Antonio some space, please," Antonio heard Ludwig ask from somewhere off to his left. Feliciano pouted slightly, but backed off a couple of feet and settled next to Antonio's outstretched feet.

The younger Italian drummed his fingers impatiently on the bedspread, bright eyes wide and looking like he'd eaten slightly too much sugar. "Ve~, Toni, Toni, what happened? Did you meet fratello? What did he say? Did he get my note? Ooh! Did he write one back?"

Gilbert laughed. "Feli, he can't answer if you're talkin' over the top of everything. Give him a sec to wake up and stuff. Glad to see you're not dead, by the way, man. That would have been so un-awesome."

"Quite," Ludwig agreed. "There were a couple of points at which we were debating to wake you up or not, but since you didn't seem hurt we gave it the benefit of the doubt. You were very cold for the most of the night, though. Even when we put several blankets on top of you it didn't seem to have much of an effect."

Antonio nodded, recalling how things had been when he first arrived. "It was quite cold there for most of the time."

"Hmm," Ludwig said thoughtfully. "Ah yes. The rest of my doubts have been fully removed, you'll be pleased to know. We got your pocketful of...something...about ten minutes after you fell asleep."

Feliciano held up his blackened hands delightedly. "Ve~! It's like soot! And it made my hands all dirty when I touched it. Also your bed is, because I kinda spilt it everywhere and Ludi got mad." His face switched from happy to apologetic as he glanced over the various black smudges marking the fabric, before returning his attention to Antonio with his worried but eager expression. "So what happened, Toni? Is fratello ok?"

Antonio paused for a moment, watching the expectant faces scattered in front of him, and then nodded, causing a giant smile of relief to spread across Feliciano's face and the auburn-haired boy to launch himself at him in a hug with the force of a cannon.

"Ve~. I knew you'd do it, Toni," Feliciano beamed, practically radiating sunbeams despite the dark circles under his eyes. From the looks of it, he hadn't slept the entire night out of frenzied worry.

Francis was giving him a curious look. "How did you do it, Antoine? Surely it would not have been that easy to convince Lovino that your actions were the result of accident and misunderstanding. Your tired face says that this was indeed a trial, though it was one with a happy ending." Of course Francis would have noticed something like that. The guy was a master at reading body language, especially when it came to relationships.

So Antonio launched into his recount of the last few hours, even though his mind felt like it was filled with cotton wool. All the spinning, switching sadness and euphoria had developed and interchanged so much, to the point that they neutralised each other and morphed into a distant kind of numbness. To use a cliché that was as much a literalism as it was metaphorical, it felt just like a dream.

* * *

><p>Yo! Sorry this is up about a week later than I intended it. Blame my new Pokémon emulator, A-level results, and some parts of this which were just damn hard to write. But yes! all be happy now. Only a couple chapters left, by my reckoning, until I've tied up all the loose plot threads. Probably. :D<p>

Oh, and well done to Yuri n' Chuka for correctly guessing the plot. :) And thank you to all my awesome reviewers.


	18. You and Me, Here And Now

Some time later, it was a hoarse-throated Antonio who collapsed back on the soft folds of the bed once his recount of the night was complete, exhausted even though he'd just had a full night's sleep. He'd left out a lot of detail while telling his story, yet it still had taken quite a while to complete, mainly due to Feliciano's continuous interrupting. Antonio couldn't blame him, though. Poor Feli had to sit there listening to Antonio talking about his lost family, the family he couldn't ever see again, and so was trying to get every detail he could in order to feel closer to those he once had. Especially when Antonio said that he'd met Romulus. Feli had known nothing of his grandfather since his death several years earlier, and Antonio knew it must be so painful to hear about someone else meeting someone you'd never see again. He wished he could do something about it.

After Antonio finally finished, the room was unnaturally silent. No one was quite sure what to say; for it to be over almost as soon as it had began, to them at least, seemed a bit anti-climatic.

"Ve~," Feliciano beamed, finally breaking the silence. "I'm so glad everything's ok now. This was all so sad and confusing."

Ludwig cleared his throat awkwardly, his expression forming its familiar serious stance. "Well, perhaps not everything."

There was a short growl from Gilbert, who was hanging upside down off the bed for one of his ever-inexplicable reasons. "Give it a break, West. We can sort out whatever's got a stick up your ass at a later date. _Gott_, can't you just let everyone be happy for a bit? At least let Feli get a couple letters from his brother before you complain."

"Gilbert..." Ludwig frowned.

"What? Seriously, just think for a sec that this has been a real trial for Toni and Feli. Give 'em a break for a bit, huh?" Gilbert shrugged and gave his brother an upside-down glance, for once not looking arrogant or sarcastic.

Francis laughed quietly. "Gilbert, this is unusual for you, _non_? Playing the conscientious, empathic friend? _Mais_, you are quite right. To let everything settle down for a week or so is the best idea. Then we can address Ludwig's concern, whatever it may be. I am assuming that it is not urgent?" The Frenchman turned to Ludwig, one eyebrow raised with his question.

"It's not that urgent," Ludwig hummed thoughtfully. "But it really ought to be addressed sooner rather than later. For the moment, we just need to make sure Antonio is alright, and that he doesn't revert back to his behaviour of a week ago now that this seems to be sorted."

_It's not completely sorted_, Antonio thought. _I'm still not entirely sure Lovi's ok with everything. I mean, I'm glad he's happy, but he's good at holding grudges, and there's probably some part of him that still resents me. I'll have to ask Feli about it later. Some time when Gilbert, Francis and Ludwig aren't around. _Out loud, he said. "Don't worry, Ludwig. I'll be fine. I realise now that what I was doing then wasn't...uh...entirely healthy."

"Oh, oh, Toni!" Feliciano interrupted before Ludwig could reply. "Can you send letters to _nonno_ too? I really miss him and it's not fair that only fratello gets letters. Although I wish I could go with you and see them. Fratello's world sounds so pretty, and you can't hug someone through letters." Feliciano's face fell. "Aw, I want a fratello-hug now. And a _nonno_-hug." Tears started to well up again in his wide golden eyes and his bottom lip quivered dangerously.

"Aw, no, Feli, don't cry!" Antonio leapt up and wrapped his arms around Feliciano in an attempt to cheer up the saddened boy. It was far from the first time that Feliciano had been sad that morning, but Antonio still hated seeing his friend that way. "You can have an Antonio-hug instead. I know it's not the same, but I hugged Lovi earlier so it's kinda like you got a Lovi-hug. Please don't be sad, Feli. Smile!"

Feliciano sniffed, blinking back his tears and returning Antonio's hug. "Ve~. I'm not sad, Toni. I'm happy that everyone's made up with each other now. I just miss fratello and _nonno_."

Francis smiled sympathetically. "That's normal, Feli. Don't worry about it."

"Yeah, and you'll always see them once you die," Gilbert pointed out, complete with his usual tact.

"Gilbert!" the other three berated in unison.

"What?" Gilbert grinned, his face blank but his eyes mischievous. "It's true."

Ludwig sighed. "I could lecture you for hours on the many ways in what you just said was inappropriate, but you would neither listen nor care. When are you ever going to learn, Gilbert?" he questioned exasperatedly to himself. "Well, if that is everything, then I suggest that we go downstairs and have some breakfast, if Antonio doesn't mind our intrusive presence further."

"Lud, it's fine!" Antonio said cheerfully, glad he was regaining his characteristic good humour despite his ordeal and tiredness. "You guys have been so great to me these past couple days – it's more than my pleasure to have you over."

"Excellent!" Francis smiled. "Let us go cook a delicious breakfast to celebrate that everyone is happy once again." And with that, he pulled himself to his feet and started for the door, a hungry-looking and tousle-haired Gilbert hot on his heels.

Antonio laughed to himself as he slowly followed the others downstairs, leaning on the walls to protect his still-throbbing ankle. Yes, Francis was right in principle, but there were still parts of people that would be far from happy for a while yet. But Antonio was determined to stick by both Vargas brothers through this, as he had been from the start. And, for the moment, breakfast sounded like a good idea. Now he was properly awake, his stomach had decided that it was emptier than a student's bank account and was complaining loudly. Perhaps he'd go make some churros. Churros sounded nice about now.

XxxxX

The familiar but disorienting feeling of waking up in heaven was once again a happy one as Antonio opened his eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on his face and the lush grass beneath his hands.

Lovino wasn't in sight, which was unusual, but Antonio guessed that he just didn't know when to expect Antonio, and hence was doing something elsewhere. In which case, Antonio should probably start looking for him. Even after coming here for nearly six weeks, Antonio still wasn't sure if Lovino could detect his presence here or not. Sometimes it seemed like he could, yet other times he was completely oblivious to Antonio being here until Antonio went looking, which admittedly hadn't been often.

Antonio picked himself off the ground and began walking in no particular direction, appreciating the summer-like weather as a beautiful contrast to the chill of spring that was still hanging around at home. As he looked around, it was almost impossible to tell that the world had been a wasteland just a day before. Birds chirped once again in the tall trees, the shape of the town was just visible some distance away, and winds ruffled the fields of grass like a parent proudly tousling their child's hair. Only the cracks along the base of the tree, and the light scattering of dust that lay beneath the grass on close inspection betrayed the fact that not everything was quite healed yet.

But before he'd gone ten paces, an invisible obstacle stole his feet from under him and Antonio fell hard to the ground, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Groaning, he picked himself up again, and glanced back to see what had tripped him. To his surprise, there was nothing there save the grass, which was as harmless as a cloud. Whatever had tripped him had either been his own feet, which was unlikely, or had disappeared completely.

It was then when he heard stifled laughter coming from behind the tree and he turned back, suspecting instantly who it was and what had just happened.

"Lovi?" Antonio asked curiously, unable to keep from grinning despite the slight pain and humiliation he'd just encountered.

Proving his guess correct, Lovino appeared from behind the tree, face lit with an amused and mischievous grin. Antonio immediately ran over and enveloped him in a delighted hug, but the Italian was too busy laughing to bother returning the embrace.

"Aw, Lovi, that was mean!" Antonio complained once he'd let Lovino go, but there was no heart to the complaint.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lovino spluttered. "That was fucking hilarious. You were all like, 'where's the ground gone?' and then hit the floor with your face." He mimed tripping over and burst out laughing again.

A scowl briefly tried to cross Antonio's face, but the smile that was already present quickly fought it off without the slightest bit of trouble. It was rather easy to see the funny side, after all, and Antonio found it impossible to stay mad at Lovino.

He was glad Lovino was laughing, though. For a brief second he thought the trick had risen out of malice, and that Lovino was still mad at him, but now it was clear that it had just been a joke. A slightly humiliating joke, perhaps, but a joke nonetheless. Hopefully that was as bad as revenge plans would get, but Antonio didn't want to bring that question up, just in case Lovino had forgotten and the reminder would help him invent something much worse. Antonio was fine with going along with such plans if they were to arise, but he would prefer them not to if he had the choice.

XxxxX

Several hours later, it was a tired and dazed Antonio who raised a hand to his face in exhaustion and left a dirty smear where a line of sweat had previously been. As it had turned out, Lovino's revenge plan's, due to the lazy Italian's lack of imagination, mostly consisted of being his personal slave for some time. Antonio had cleaned the house, which had somehow gone from spotless to dirty in about ten seconds, run countless little errands, and harvested all the tomatoes from the field. This latter task had taken the majority of the time, mainly due to the fact that the tomatoes kept growing back while his back was turned and it took him two and a half rounds of the field before he noticed anything was unusual. Lovino, meanwhile, watching from the hillock nearby, was in hysterics at Antonio's obliviousness.

"They were growing by themselves, damn it! Surely after even one pass you'd have noticed!"

Antonio let out a long breath, and quietly watched Lovino laugh, enjoying the look on his face even though Antonio knew it was at his expense. Outwardly, Antonio was untroubled, but in the back of his mind he was wondering how long this was going to last. Probably until Lovino got bored of the novelty of having a personal servant, but Antonio didn't know how long that would be. He didn't want to complain, as Lovino would get mad, and Antonio had promised anything to him, but endless chores were getting a bit dull. But, if he mentioned this to Lovino, there was always the chance that he'd invent something much more painful or humiliation instead, so Antonio kept his thoughts to himself.

Finally out of breath from laughing, Lovino leant back against the grass, using his hands as a pillow and closed his eyes. "Get me a drink, would you? That's your next task."

Antonio paused for a second, running a hand through his damp, tousled hair as he caught his breath. "Wait...can't you just get one yourself? Make them appear out of nowhere. I swear you did the other day."

Lovino sniggered. "And it only took you about four hours to cotton on. You're not as dumb as you look. Mind you, that's not hard."

"Hey!" Antonio protested. He'd spent ages working his fingers to the bone – why did he have to be insulted too?

"What?" Lovino shrugged and sat up, fixing Antonio with a curious look. "I'm surprised at you, though. Thought you'd have at least complained once by now, the amount I've had you doing. What's wrong with you?"

Antonio, reckoning the work was over for the moment and hoping for a change, pulled off the gardening gloves he'd been using and dropped to the grass next to Lovino. "Why were you expecting me to complain? You could have me doing this for days, and the most I'd ask is for a short break every so often, no matter what happened. I did say that I'd do anything for things to be right, remember? And I'm pretty sure this qualifies as anything."

"Yeah, but if I'd have said that, I'd have been complaining all the way through until you let me off just to get me to stop," Lovino pointed out. "Surprised you didn't try that."

Antonio shook his head. "No. If you told me to do something, Lovi, I'd do it. No matter what it was. Even walking barefoot across spikes to hell and back."

Lovino snorted. "Good luck with that. Hell's a fucking long way from here, what with it being all opposite. And since I don't even know how to get to your world from here, let alone hell, you'd have to do it without a map."

"I'd still do it, if that's what it took," Antonio murmured, slipping an arm around Lovino's shoulders. The Italian jumped slightly at the touch, but after a second leaned back against Antonio, closing his eyes slightly as he looked up at the sky.

"You're an idiot then," he replied quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, Antonio could see the faintest red tinge coating the younger's cheeks.

He smiled and pulled Lovino closer. "Well, if loving you makes me an idiot, well, I guess I'm just the world's biggest idiot. And glad to be so."

Lovino visibly twitched again, but didn't recoil; just buried his face in Antonio's shoulder while muttering something inaudible. Antonio gently kissed the top of his head and let Lovino try futilely hiding, being content just to sit there and appreciate everything. Lovino was so cute when he was embarrassed.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Lovino asked, somewhat muffled by Antonio's shirt. Antonio knew full well that it was a rhetorical question, but he decided to answer anyway, and taking the question the opposite way to how Lovino intended it for good measure.

"Be you. That's all you ever needed to be," he smiled, tangling his fingers in Lovino's hair. Lovino just groaned and didn't move, but Antonio could tell he wasn't really annoyed. Even he could read emotions in here, but that was because the world reflected Lovino's in a way that was more than obvious. And right now, the world just radiated happiness and contentment, even if Lovino himself didn't want to outwardly show that.

Antonio transferred his hand to the edge of Lovino's shoulder and tipped himself backwards so he was lying flat on the soft grass. The hapless Italian tumbled back against him with a surprised yelp escaping his lips and eyes suddenly wide open.

"Bastard," Lovino complained. "Give me a bit of warning before you do crazy shit like that, damn it! I thought I was falling."

Antonio pulled the other back to their previous closeness and laughed. "Boss will catch you, Lovi. Don't worry~."

Lovino muttered a curse in Italian, but didn't seem over-annoyed, and shifted himself slightly so that his head was resting against Antonio's chest, rising and falling with each of the Spaniard's gentle breaths. The two, comfortable with their new positions, rested together in silence. Antonio was more than glad of the break, and couldn't be happier with where he was now; relaxing quietly in the warm sunlight with his precious Lovino snuggled up against him. He was so glad that everything was alright now.

"Oi, jerk," Lovino muttered a few minutes later, pulling Antonio out of his dozy reverie. His voice was slightly subdued, as if he was tired, or had a cold.

"What's up, Lovi?" Antonio asked, gently stroking Lovino's side with the hand that was still wrapped around it.

"Got another job for you," Lovino replied.

This revelation was much to Antonio's disappointment. He'd rather hoped that Lovino had forgotten, or at least put off, his plans for Antonio. But he'd promised, and wouldn't back out if his life depended on it. "What's the job?"

"This is...your last job," Lovino murmured, with a pause in his sentence that Antonio realised was an adorable yawn. "After this, I can't be bothered to make up stuff for you to do. So now, you're a pillow. I'm taking a damn siesta." Lovino nestled up ever-so-slightly closer, and wrapped an arm around Antonio's waist, closing his eyes as he did so.

If Lovino hadn't been comfortable and about to fall asleep, Antonio would have swept him up and rubbed his face against his own, he was so cute at that moment. The moments in which Lovino showed affection were few and far between, and Antonio dearly loved each one of them with a passion. But for the moment, he had to make do with a contented hum. "...I can do that, Lovi~. Let's take a siesta together."

Lovino didn't reply, but Antonio noticed a deepening in his breathing after a minute or so, and realised the younger boy had fallen asleep. He gently traced a finger down the soft skin of Lovino's face, careful not to disturb him, then leant his head back once more and closed his own eyes. The quiet calm and the gentle music of the whistling wind quickly lulled him into the same peaceful trance that had captured Lovino, and Antonio soon found himself falling to sleep as well.

* * *

><p>This is what happens when I completely redecide the ending for a story halfway through it. I get up to a point, and I'm like, 'how the hell do I finish this?' At the moment, it's going one of two ways. Not quite sure which yet. It's been hard to finish this as I'm rubbish at decisions. But it WILL be finished.<br>Anyways, my apologies that this is so late. I struggle at writing fluffy parts. I'm much better at writing angsty stuff and keep getting attacked by little fic ideas.

~Almost 100 reviews? I love you guys. Thank you so much! Your support really helps me as a writer. :D


	19. Circles

It was Wednesday when the short but blissful period of normalcy of Antonio's life was disturbed once again. The afternoon sun hung in the sky, bright and cheerful, as Antonio walked down the avenue where it had all begun at the close of the school day. Along the sides of the avenue, the branches of the cherry trees were now radiant shades of green as the budding leaves began to shyly emerge, and all that remained of the blossom of the month before were a few scattered petals across the flagstones.

Gilbert was by his side and the two were in lighthearted conversation about something Gilbert had discovered on the Internet the previous evening and had decided to blog about. It wasn't of any particular importance – Gilbert's interests rarely were – but Antonio relished the exchange; a diversion from thinking how different it was from how things had been on that black day. Now things were more or less back to how they should be, and for this, he was grateful. He wasn't entirely sure as to why he was so reflective today, as he walked down this avenue at least twice every day and it had never had this effect before, but there was something about the atmosphere today that just reminded him of Lovino, which in turn drew him into thinking about the Italian's last day here. His last few minutes, walking down past his classmates, without knowing that only short while separated him from the blue monstrosity that was-

"Toni!" Gilbert's hand appeared in front of his face and Antonio jumped, not realising until that moment that he'd been zoned out again. "You missed a load of my awesome commentary! I asked if you thought I should start updating my awesome blog more often than bi-weekly, and you totally blocked me! Not cool, bro."

Antonio laughed sheepishly. "Sorry, Gil. Didn't mean to."

"What's all up in your face anyways?" Gilbert asked, shrugging his bag back up his shoulders from where it had slipped and giving Antonio a quizzical look.

"Nothing," Antonio lied, knowing it was too complicated to go into what he'd really been thinking about it. It wasn't important, anyway, and besides, it would only raise questions again about his mental state and he was actually alright at this point. In fact, things were finally great.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" a new, deeper voice cut in abruptly. Antonio and Gilbert turned round simultaneously to see Ludwig standing behind them. His hair was slicked back as usual with gel, and he had to be the only student in the school whose tie was as perfect leaving as it was entering. As usual, a smiling Feliciano was trailing behind like a colourful shadow, but his expression was strangely subdued behind the smile.

"Not really," Antonio replied, shaking his head.

"Yeah you are, West!" Gilbert contradicted, waving his hands in front of his brother's face.

Ludwig frowned. "Ah, I see. Would you rather that we discuss this matter at a later point?"

"No, it's fine. Just go all up in my face and watch my awesome blog get ruined 'cos I can't get artist's ideas 'cos my little brother's got a bug up his butt. How I am supposed to explain _that_ to the internet, I ask you? My legions of fans will be devastated." Gilbert pouted, but Ludwig was long since immune to the look, and continued regardless.

He cleared his throat briefly, before straightening his tie, and beginning. "As you may recall, I mentioned a problem with the current state of things back on Saturday. As the situation stood at the time, it was a bad moment to bring things up, and the matter was detained. However, I believe that it needs to be discussed sooner as opposed to later."

Gilbert gave his brother a blank look and spread his hands. "And in English?"

With a sigh, Ludwig replied, "We need to talk about the practicalities of Antonio maintaining a relationship in…such a way that it is."

"Oh, I'm fine with it, really," Antonio replied cheerfully, a few seconds before the impact of Ludwig's complicated sentences struck him. He froze, stopping just outside of the school gates, cars whooshing past just a few metres away and other students parting around them with no regard for the devastating impact that had just fallen. He felt as if he'd been caught in a bubble. "You think there's a problem?" It was more of a statement than a question, as Ludwig had pretty much confirmed what he'd just asked.

Ludwig nodded. "I do, yes. Don't get me wrong, I still do believe that this is real and not a result of a delusion or similar experience, but…it is mentally unhealthy."

"What?" Antonio exclaimed, caught between outrage and betrayal. "I thought you were fine with this! You said it yourself that Lovi's world had to be real!"

"Yes," Ludwig agreed, "but that is not the entirety of the matter. Mentally, this is not good for you. As proven earlier this month, you can be prone to wanting to live in a world which is not your own, more than is normal. Quite possibly, it will delude you from reality. It is also somewhat of a risk to your physical health. Speaking of which, you are not physically in this relationship. We watched you all night, and you never went anywhere. Whatever is going on is all in your mind, real or not. And that's not good for you."

Behind his back, Feliciano was still visible, but his face looked undeniably distraught despite the unnatural silence he was keeping. Antonio wanted to ask him if he was ok, but he was a bit busy fighting his own case at the moment, and he had a feeling that Feliciano was against Ludwig's argument as well.

"I'm happy, Lovi's happy, what's the problem?" Antonio was surprised at how hostile his voice was beginning to sound. All this arguing recently must really be getting to him. He didn't much like fighting, as a rule, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to fight this. Recently, he'd just gone through too much just to give everything up now.

"Unfortunately, several things, as far as I can make out," Ludwig answered severely, yet still managing to look unsure at the same time. "

Antonio tried his best to frown, but it wasn't a natural look for him and it was hard to form, even when it was needed. To be honest, he felt more like he should be looking scared, or perhaps verging on the heartbroken, but he'd gotten far too much practise in on those particular emotions lately. His little personal bubble suddenly became airtight and began to constrict his breathing, yet somehow feeling like at the same time that it was about to pop and leave him exposed and vulnerable. It didn't help that Ludwig, meaning well or not, was poking at it repeatedly with a large and imprinting stick. "Ludwig-" he started hesitantly.

"_Bonjour,_" a cheerful voice interrupted in a sing-song tone, and Francis' figure appeared to Gilbert's right, next to the pavement's edge. "If I'd have known that you were waiting for me, then I wouldn't have-" Francis abruptly caught sight of the numerous distressed faces and realised that he'd unanticipatedly wandered into a situation that wasn't as light-hearted as the comment he'd just injected into it. He grimaced and quickly backtracked. "Oh dear. What has got _mes amis_ so down?"

"West's got a twig up his ass about Toni and Lovino again," Gilbert said irritably. "It's dead repetitive. He's worse than Berlitz with his little red bone – he won't let go. Tell him to shut up, would you? He won't listen to the awesome me."

"I have not 'got a twig up my ass', Gilbert," Ludwig corrected him through gritted teeth as his elder brother once again grated his nerves. "I just think that this isn't a good idea. I don't mean to play the bad guy, but someone has to be the voice of reason."

"You're just saying the same thing that you were the other day, pretty much," Gilbert retorted. "You're going in circles, and this record's getting old fast. Either play something else or shut it. We're fed up of reciting the same argument over again."

Ludwig sighed for the second, if not the third, time that afternoon, one hand extending to massage his aching temples. "I am repeating myself because no one is listening to what I am saying."

"Yeah, 'cos what you're saying is a complete and total load of bullshit." Gilbert's red eyes flashed, and Antonio could sense a fierce family brawl bubbling, ready to spill over the edge at any moment.

"Gilbert, calm down. People are beginning to stare," Ludwig pointed out, struggling to keep his voice calm in spite of his brother's deliberate attempt at infuriation. It was clear that he was tired and unsure of what he was saying, but determined enough not to back down. "I am only asking you to listen and consider what I am saying."

Gilbert scowled, his conflict-relishing side clearly unhappy with the placated situation. "Fine. But I don't see what's so wrong with the whole thing. As Toni said, they're happy, right?"

Shaking his head, Ludwig replied, "You're not listening, Gilbert. I did just explain this to you."

Gilbert shrugged. "'Explain' and 'make any sense at all' mean different things with you, West. For one thing, you said Toni could be in danger. What's up with that?"

"I was wondering about that, too," Antonio agreed. "Me and Lovi patched things up, and we're all fine."

"Relationships are fickle things," Ludwig disputed. "What happens if the two of you have a fight? Even if it was over nothing. Last time was just a misunderstanding, and Antonio nearly got badly injured If you end up hating each other, every night may end up being a potential death sentence. Whether Lovino means to harm you or not." With his sentence ending on this ominous note, he fixed Antonio with a serious look. It wasn't a hurtful look; there was only concern in the German's eyes, but it nonetheless sent a stabbing pain through Antonio's heart. Ludwig, well as his intentions may be, was trying to split Antonio and Lovino apart, and Antonio had only just recovered the jewel that he had lost. He didn't want to be removed from its sparkling light and hypnotic colours again.

He resorted instead to falling silent, wishing that the situation would just resolve itself. Though one thing in particular still stuck in his mind. Even though the question had been asked at least twice, Ludwig hadn't properly answered why he thought there was a problem even though everyone was happy. Antonio blinked abruptly as a thought struck him. Perhaps that was why Ludwig kept looking unsure while he was talking. Perhaps he didn't entirely believe in what he was saying. Antonio was fairly pleased by this; it proved Ludwig was a nice guy at heart – he just liked following the rules too much. It'd be nice if, just this once, the German was to bend the rules ever-so-slightly, and let this be as it was.

Aforementioned rule-loving German, meanwhile, was watching Antonio carefully, waiting for the response he didn't realise he wasn't getting, until Gilbert spoke up again.

"So, West, let's say for the moment that you're right. What now?" He looked at his brother quizzically, but there was a distinct note of challenge aflame in his ruby eyes.

Ludwig drew breath slowly. "Well, I would have assumed that was fairly obvious. In any scenario, the best way to prevent something happening, where possible, is to remove the source of the risk. So, like it or not, Antonio, it is probably for the best if you are to stop going there."

And just like that, Antonio's bubble popped, showering him with confusion and pain that jabbed at his mind, and shocked bitter little tears into the ducts of his eyes. But he didn't let them fall, not yet. He couldn't let them fall. It wasn't time to give up yet, even when he had no idea of what to do.

And then, in a lightbulb moment, a way out hit him. "I don't know how. Even Lovi doesn't know why I keep going there, and neither of us will know a way to stop me."

Gilbert hummed thoughtfully, mouth half-hiding a smirk. "He's right, you know, West. No matter how much of a problem you have with this, if there's no way to stop Antonio from visiting heaven in his dreams, then there's not a damn thing that anyone can do about it."

Before Ludwig could respond, the dam that Feliciano had set up irreparably burst and the younger Italian leapt forward, protesting loudly with his hands outstretched. "Fratello will be sad if Toni stops visiting! He's only just got better after Toni lost his note and told him he wasn't real. I don't want fratello to be sad!" Feliciano's voice cracked as his eyes welled with tears, and it was a look that even the most hardened negotiator couldn't ignore. From across the other side of the group, Gilbert looked like he was about to break down and hug him any second, his feet half pointing in Feliciano's direction even as he continued walking.

Ludwig sighed. "It is a difficult situation, but it is one that has to be faced. Lovino is dead, and at some point we must face this and cut the ties. Boundaries have been crossed here that have never been crossed before. Surely there must be some kind of rules that govern this other world that prevent living visitors. Otherwise there could be a sudden influx of people wishing to get to eternal happiness. Something must be there to prevent events like this, and we don't know the consequences of breaching it."

"It's a world we don't know," Antonio argued. "Anything could happen."

Francis, who had been silent for the most part of the conversation, caught Ludwig's eye and raised his hand cautiously. "I believe I have a theory about what is going on."

"Really?" Antonio and Ludwig spoke in unison, the former curious, the latter sceptical, before they exchanged wary looks and returned their attention to Francis, who nodded.

"_Oui_. As far as I can tell, heaven will adapt either to suit the mood of its inhabitant, or in a way to make them happy? When Lovino died, he was left without Antonio, and was lonely. So the world formed a connection between itself and here, so Antonio could visit." He sighed. "Love is so beautiful."

Ludwig frowned, clearly dubious with Francis' theory. "If that is the case, how come thousands of couples across the world haven't already experienced this phenomenon?"

Francis shrugged. "Perhaps they already have, but no one knows."

"I doubt it. One of them at least would have said something about it, or been featured on the news, et cetera, et cetera."

"Not necessarily," Francis replied. "Remember how you deemed Antonio mad when you first heard about it? Lucid dreaming? That is quite possibly what has happened, had this happened to anyone else. Friends, family and psychiatrists alike would have said they had just reacted badly to the loss of a loved one, and were having dreams of them as a result of the grief. They may have been referred to a mental hospital, or undergone counselling to help, or 'help', as it may be, until the dreams stopped. Others may have just kept it quiet completely." He shrugged again, as if to trivialise the surprising profoundness of what he'd just said. "That's my thoughts on it, anyway. I don't know how much is truth, and how much is pure speculation. Perhaps this is the first occurrence, perhaps not. We don't know."

There was a long, thoughtful silence among the five friends as they each digested Francis' words. By now they were far from the school and the street was bereft of cars, its silence accentuating the situation and pulling it into a long tense string.

Antonio wasn't entirely sure about the truth of what Francis was saying, but still didn't speak up, preferring instead to try bring his thoughts into some kind of order. Yes, it made sense, a lot more sense than a lot of things that had been said in the past week or so, but it just didn't tie up with what he'd been told earlier. A particular conversation with Lovino, right back when he'd first appeared, stuck in his mind. A conversation where Lovino had clearly said that Antonio was the first person to appear in heaven like this. If circumstances really were as simple as Francis had theorised, then surely Lovino or his grandfather would have heard about someone else in the same situation. There had to be something that someone's speculation was missing. Truth be told, however, everything was now just confusing Antonio further. He'd never been great at keeping several trains of thought on track at once, and now all the carriages had crashed into one another and wrecked the line.

Finally, Gilbert spoke up. "Franny. I reckon that either makes this make so much more sense, or is the biggest load of absolute bullshit that I've heard in ages. Either way, though, it's the longest speech that you've ever done that's not about sex in some way." His expression was partway between amusement, pride and scorn.

Francis smiled. "Despite what people tend to think of me, I do think of things other than sex occasionally, and love is oftentimes more beautiful. Sex is, after all, love in its purest physical form."

Ludwig cleared his throat quickly. "Moving the conversation back on track, the question now is how to stop Antonio from going to heaven. Whether it's wanted or not, it is probably the right thing to do. Now, counselling is obviously out. It's just too complicated to explain this entire situation to someone new, and it is highly unlikely that they will believe us anyway. So that means that we need to find another way."

"Don't!" Feliciano piped up again, and the other four jumped in unison. It was unlikely for Feliciano to disagree with Ludwig once, let alone twice in the same conversation, and even more unlikely for these to be the only things that he'd said. Obviously the possible outcomes of this were tearing him up inside, forcing him to choose between his lost brother, and his beloved boyfriend, and leaving him unsure and rendered speechless. Antonio didn't envy how the younger Italian was feeling. It must be completely awful.

"Feli…" Ludwig's uncertainty finally broke the surface and he looked at Feliciano with a twisted expression that Antonio couldn't decipher. "It really is the only way."

"We could let fratello and Toni be happy," Feliciano replied quietly, looking Ludwig straight in the eyes, the quiet words belying the hammer blows they wreaked. Feliciano was speaking with the quiet passion that his absent brother would have shown, albeit with fewer expletives, and the connection between them was still so strong and clear.

Ludwig paused, then sighed again. "You make it sound so simple, Feliciano," he said tiredly.

"Isn't it?" The simple question held a surprising poignancy.

"It'd be nice if it was," Ludwig admitted. "But I wouldn't think so. The dead are dead for a reason, and the whole reason there is an afterlife is to separate the two, or so I would philosophise. We really need to respect that."

"But that is the problem," Francis interrupted. "Philosophy, _non_? We don't know what's going on. Maybe there are consequences, maybe there aren't. Which way do we take it? Risk, or peace?"

Once again, silence dawned, but this time it was more of doubt and exasperation. No one knew what to do, and neither option looked to hold a decision. There were just too many variables and unknowns, and everything seemed to be spiralling continuously back on the same path and right back to where it had started. And, perhaps most importantly, no one particularly wanted to be the one to split Antonio and Lovino right after they'd gotten back to happiness. It was the sort of thing you'd feel guilty for years afterwards.

Gilbert was once again the one to break the silence, this time in the form of a vexed growl. "Ah, fuck it. This is confusing and just going in goddam circles again. The awesome me is bored of talking. Can't we just do something already?"

"We're trying to decide what to do, Gilbert. We don't know," Francis replied. "_Ah, Dieu_, this is frustrating."

"We don't need to do anything, though," Feliciano argued. "Fratello and Toni don't want to be sad and apart, so they don't have to be sad and apart. That's all there is to it."

Ludwig shook his head and replied a counter-argument, but Antonio quickly zoned out. By now, he was getting rather fed up. Nothing was happening apart from everyone's tempers getting stretched to breaking point, no one looked like they were ever going to back down and every time conversation got onto philosophy, it began to make his head spin. "Hey you guys," he suggested quietly. "How about we leave things for today before we get in a really big fight or something? It's not got to be done now. I could talk to Lovi about it and see what he says."

"Fratello will yell," Feliciano pointed out, rather stating the obvious.

Antonio shrugged. "Lovi does that anyway, I don't mind. And, well…he kinda has a reason to in this case. I wouldn't want to be told what I've just heard." He stopped himself from talking further, but the words still ran through his mind. Lovino had been through enough lately, and he really didn't deserve further aggravation. Especially seeing how you were supposed to be happy in heaven.

Ludwig sighed yet again out of exasperation. "I don't like leaving things unsolved, but fine. If anything, Lovino might know a way to prevent Antonio from going to heaven."

"In which case, he wouldn't tell Antonio it," Francis countered. "Why would he?"

"We're starting fighting again," Feliciano pouted. "I thought we were done with fighting."

Ludwig nodded. "Good idea. Let's just go back to our respective houses, have a think on what we're doing, and then come to a decision tomorrow, maybe."

"Finally," Gilbert sighed. "C'mon West. You can make me some food when we get home – the awesome me is starving."

"That's because you were too lazy to pack lunch this morning," Ludwig replied. "I'll see you guys later. Bye."

"_Tshcüss!_" Gilbert waved, pulling on Ludwig's sleeve as the two walked off.

"Oi, wait! I walk in that direction too!" Francis called after them, picking his pace up to a run. "_Au reviour, _Feli, Antoine!"

And suddenly the conflict was over and the remaining two were standing alone by the roadside. Curiously, Antonio's ears were ringing, and he wasn't entirely sure of what had just transpired. It all seemed a little unreal. Shockingly, devastatingly unreal.

"Ve~" Feliciano muttered quietly. "I should go, too."

Antonio smiled sadly. "Ok, Feli. I'll say hi to Lovi for you later."

Feliciano began to nod, but then abruptly stopped. "Ve~, Toni, will you do me a favour?"

"Sure, Feli. What is it?"

There was a short, nervous pause, before Feliciano replied, "Don't leave fratello, ok? I've never gone against Ludi like this before, but I really don't think he's right in this case."

Antonio gave Feliciano a bright wink that concealed his insecurity about the situation. "Don't worry, Feli. I wasn't intending to. I'd never intend to, or want to."

Feliciano's face lit up, and he launched himself at Antonio in a relieved hug. "Ve~. _Grazie_, Toni! Fratello will still be happy now."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Antonio agreed. "I'll see you tomorrow, ok? Hopefully we can keep things the way that they are."

Feliciano nodded. "Mmhmm. I don't want to choose between Ludi and fratello. That would be awful." He stepped back and waved as he walked. "Bye-bye, Toni! Tell fratello I said hi!"

"I will! Bye!" Antonio called back, before he turned around and started back towards his own house.

There were still several hours to go until he could legitimately go to bed, but he really needed them tonight – deciding how to tell Lovino without the Italian blowing up would be a tricky task indeed. He wasn't entirely looking forward to it, but he didn't have much choice, and Lovino deserved to know what the others were thinking.

Yet, strangely, Antonio wasn't scared now. If anything, he could feel the seeds of a plan beginning to sprout in his brain.

* * *

><p>I'm not going to make excuses as to why this took as long as it did, as it really shouldn't have. To those of you who are still reading, your patience is much appreciated. :)<br>The next chapter will probably be the final one, and will go one of two ways, depending on which I end up preferring as I write.


	20. Bending The Rules

"You're late, jerk."

The familiar voice greeted him as Antonio once again came to on the springy grass of the hill he always woke up on. Lovino's words weren't true, as Antonio was actually here at the time he was expected, but the greeting had become a tradition, partly because Antonio often was ten or fifteen minutes late, and partly because Lovino wasn't particularly into cheerful greetings, or even pleasant ones. He much preferred criticism, even if it wasn't entirely true, as it was easier to say, and Antonio had come to see the words as they were beneath the surface; Lovino was actually happy to see him.

"Hi, Lovi!" Antonio replied, jumping to his feet and running over to give Lovino a hug. It was a relief to see him after the emotional turmoil of earlier, and Antonio was slightly worried that this would be one of the last times that the two would see each other. If Ludwig got his over-logical way, it would be, and Antonio didn't want to face that possibility.

"Ow," came an indistinct mumble from the vicinity of his chest. "Can't breathe."

Antonio realised he'd been hugging Lovino rather hard during his unanticipated bout of anxious thinking and quickly released his grip. "Ah, sorry, Lovi."

"You should be," Lovino grumbled, extricating himself from Antonio's arms and dusting himself off as he gulped much-needed oxygen. "I don't intend suffocating from hugs, of all the stupid things."

"Hugs aren't stupid," Antonio protested. "Wait – is it even possible for you to suffocate here? You're already dead."

Lovino rolled his eyes and began a slow, sarcastic clap. "And the Tact Of The Year Prize goes to…" He clicked his tongue and his applause ceased. "Anyway, I don't know. They don't exactly provide a manual of the mechanics of this place when you arrive. I'd doubt it is possible though. I mean, there isn't exactly a 'heaven's heaven', so what would happen to you? Unless you went to hell for, I dunno, spurning heaven or something." He shrugged dismissively. "Dunno. Who cares?"

Meanwhile, Antonio had gotten set off on another train of thought by Lovino's words. The Italian didn't know much about how this place worked, so were there even rules, and if so, were they enforced? It would be really interesting to know the stance on visitors from the normal world. Especially as Ludwig was arguing partly on the basis that Antonio was violating some kind of unwritten law with his visits. But if it turned out that there wasn't such a law, then Antonio would be free to visit Lovino as much as he wanted, and a lot of Ludwig's arguments would become invalid. And this, in turn, would make Antonio's case so much stronger, so-

Something flashed in front of his face and Antonio refocused. Lovino was waving one hand a few inches in front of his nose in an attempt to catch his attention, a scowl on his face once again. "Oi, jerk. Stop zoning out, damn it!"

"Sorry," Antonio apologised, hoping Lovino wouldn't pry into the matter. He wasn't entirely sure how to bring it up, let alone how to phrase it, and he was almost certain that Lovino was going to get upset. He didn't want to upset Lovino, even if it was important. Plus, he wanted to get a few thoughts straight on the matter first. He would mention it, just…not yet.

Fortunately, Lovino was used to Antonio's absentminded tendencies by now, and didn't say anything further on the subject, opting instead just to shrug again. "Whatever. So, what do you want to do today?"

"Uhh…" Antonio wondered, his brain still fried from all the flustered thoughts, and the unexpected question took a minute to register. But the answer came to him quickly, as there was only one in this situation. "It's nice out today; why don't we go down to the tomato fields for a bit and just chill?"

"It's _always _nice out here, idiot," Lovino pointed out. "Fine. As you'd say, '¡_Vamos_!'" He promptly took Antonio's hand and began to lead him away from the shade of the oak tree and down the hill.

Due to many hours spent in the delightful company of the luscious tomatoes, the two had developed a quick route to the fields from Antonio's arrival hill, or 'the bastard's hill', as Lovino chose to refer to it. The tomato fields were their favourite place to go, although it was a hard choice due to the brilliance of almost everything here. Lovino's designs made it possible to want to be everywhere at once, although that was one thing that _did_ seem impossible to do. But there was a certain quality to the fields; the place where the tomatoes were always ripe and delicious, where the sun seemed brighter, where nothing scary or stressful could ever reach you. Antonio could – and on many occasions did – spend many hours just lying there in peaceful tranquility with Lovino. It was the place he had instantly thought of as the best spot to come to terms with his thoughts.

"Question," Lovino said abruptly as the two headed down the small hill just before the fields themselves. "What's up with you?"

Antonio inwardly winced. He hadn't wanted to bring this up so early, but it was evidently bothering him more noticeably than he thought, so much so that Lovino had brought it up. "Eh, it's nothing, Lovi. Don't worry about it."

"_Che palle_," Lovino scoffed. "There's something up with you, and I don't want to walk around all day with you trailing behind with a face like someone burnt your favourite pizza. Now spit it out before I deck you." The Italian had his hands on his hips and was giving Antonio an annoyed look that he couldn't describe as anything but adorable. He knew Lovino wouldn't hit him, but Antonio really couldn't not give into that face, or almost anything Lovino did. And then again, Lovino might hit him.

"Well," Antonio sighed, unsure as how to start. "You're not really going to like this, but earlier today, Ludwig-"

"Yep," Lovino interrupted. "If the potato bastard's involved in this, it's guaranteed I won't like it. Already not liking the fact that you brought him up, but go on."

Antonio paused, slightly startled by the unexpected interruption, and dived into his next sentence rather more abruptly than he had been intending to. "Uh…Ludwig said that me seeing you is a problem."

"That bastard!" Lovino growled, kicking vehemently at the ground and creating a large muddy dent in the pristine grass. His face had morphed from the mock-anger at the discussion of Ludwig, to something close to pure rage. His thin, dark eyebrows were low over his eyes, which were blazing with golden fire. Quickly, Antonio laid a hand on his shoulder to prevent the explosion which was about to come, but Lovino only directed the angry look at him.

"God fucking damn it!" he spat. "Why can't he just let things be for once without sticking his stupid macho potato head in? Didn't you do something?"

"Of course!" Antonio protested. "It just takes a lot of convincing to get him to change his mind, and, well, I'm not the best at logical arguments."

Lovino growled low in his throat and his fingers curled into fists. Antonio rather hoped that the potential blows that were inevitably being visualised in his mind weren't going to be directed at him. "Well, either change his mind or shut him up, damn it! The bastard's caused enough trouble already. If I was able to, I'd punch him right in his meddling squishy potato face!"

Antonio was about to reply, but a sudden burst of thunder rolled across the sky and his words died in his throat as he looked up. The previously cloudless, azure sky was now an ominous shade of graphite as the clouds gathered above them, their bellies swollen with rain. Within seconds, the sun was cut off from view, obscuring most of the light and casting a shadowy gloom over the land. Sometimes having a short-tempered boyfriend whose emotions dictated the weather was a burden. Although Antonio had to admit that while he'd never seen a thunderstorm here yet, he certainly didn't want to be out in the middle of one.

He tapped Lovino on the arm gently. "Uh, Lovi? Do you think we should go inside? The weather looks like it's about to turn nasty." He indicated the sky with one finger to emphasise his point.

Lovino blinked, anger momentarily cut off, and sighed exasperatedly. "Fine. But this isn't over." With these short words, he turned abruptly on one heel and stormed off across the grass. Antonio quickly followed, looking apprehensively at the sky every so often. His pace was almost a jog, trying to keep up with Lovino, whose anger seemed to be fuelling an unusually fast speed for the normally lazy Italian. The two crossed the fields, heading – as Antonio guessed – towards the house on the far side of the town, Lovino's old home.

It was a fair distance, but due to their fevered pace, it wasn't long before the proud white structure came into view. Luckily, the weather held until they reached the house, possibly because nothing was further aggravating Lovino at that point, but the clouds were still thick and grey, and most of the sunlight had long since vanished. It almost seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for a final word before deciding to unleash its full vengeance down below .

After shutting the heavy double doors behind them, Lovino strode down the hallway, keeping up the same quick, irritated pace that he'd been walking to the house with, and . To Antonio's surprise, instead of heading to one of the rooms they usually used, Lovino crossed the shadows of the stone hallway and entered the far lounge, a room Antonio hadn't been in since his first visit to the house almost a month ago. As was the case with the rest of the house, the lights were off and the room lit only by the feeble strains of light coming in through the windows, but as Lovino walked in, one of the candelabras flickered into life as if lit by an invisible match, casting long shadows across the room and providing just about enough light to see by.

Lovino threw himself onto the bay window seat, leaning back against the wall. Now Antonio could see his face instead of following the back of his head, Lovino didn't seem as angry as he had a few minutes ago, more tired and exasperated. The Spaniard's face crinkled in concern, and he settled onto the soft cushions next to Lovino, slipping one arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.

"You alright, Lovi?" Antonio asked gently. He knew the answer, of course; it was more of a conversation starter, a way to try get Lovino to open up.

Lovino sighed. "Damn bastard," he muttered softly. "Can't be content with how things are. Has to fuck up everything." He looked up at Antonio briefly. "Did you tell him he's created the world's biggest anomaly? I mean, how the hell is it meant to be possible to be sad in heaven? Yet here we are. Or I am. You don't really belong here. Which I guess is the potato's point, but it's not his point to make. It's happened, why can't he let things be?" Lovino's voice cracked, and he quickly burrowed his face in Antonio's shirt.

Antonio held Lovino close, his free hand now stroking the younger's hair. He wasn't sure what to say. He hated seeing Lovino like this, so lost, so broken. He worked hard to bring a smile to his little tomato's face, and yet the smallest bit of sadness so easily wiped away weeks of work. It was certainly disheartening, but he wasn't about to give up just yet. This had always been a crazy enough situation, so there had to be a suitable way to get this to work. Otherwise, why had it happened in the first place? Things like this didn't just happen so randomly.

Outside their window-seat, there was a brief flash of lightning that lit the sky up yellow, then the ceiling began to echo with the soft sound of rain as the finally-unrestrained droplets began to lash the roof and walls. Antonio bit his lip, glad that they were inside, but the bad weather left him uneasy.

"Hey, don't be sad, _mi querido_," he said, trying to keep a small smile on his face to cheer Lovino up. "I'm not going to let anything happen. I'll persuade Ludwig out of getting me to stop coming here. We'll be fine, I promise."

"Hmmph," Lovino muttered, still unconvinced. "Well, joke's on him anyway. Not like there's a way to get you to stop going here, or I'd have found it by now." The hollow words punctured a hole in Antonio's heart; it was Lovino's usual flippant insult, but without any of the emotion behind it. The Italian was trying desperately to stay strong, but it just wasn't working, and Antonio couldn't bear to watch it.

"Lovi…no, Lovi, look at me." He brought a hand under Lovino's chin and tilted his head up so the two were eye-to-eye, hazel-gold locked with emerald. "Even if there was a way to stop me coming here, I wouldn't let it happen, you hear me? I'll fight for you, Lovi, no matter what it takes. I love you. Don't forget that."

Lovino gaze wavered, and a tear trickled down his face. "Bastard," he whispered. He gave up trying to hold back and collapsed forward into Antonio's embrace once more as further droplets joined the first traitorous escapee en route down his face. Antonio gently held him as he sobbed, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words in his ear, all the time wishing that there was no need for this dejection. It was a few minutes before Lovino stopped crying, and even then he still didn't move from Antonio's grasp. The two just stayed as they were, listening to the persistent thrum of the rain against the windows. The shower, though it had started some time ago, was so much more noticeable among the roaring silence; constant and almost hypnotic. It was hard not to just stay still and frozen, listening.

Eventually, Lovino sat up, leaving a small damp patch on Antonio's shirt from where his head had been, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Antonio replied softly, leaning forward and gently kissing the tip of Lovino's nose. "And don't think there is. Ever. There's nothing wrong with being upset. Especially if things won't give you a break. But we'll find a way out of this, you'll see."

Lovino frowned, still unconvinced, but he settled against the back of the window-seat and fell into silent thought again.

"Hey, cheer up," Antonio smiled. "It'll be ok. Smile, Lovi! Smile for Boss!"

Lovino scowled at him. "You are such an idiot it's unbelievable."

Antonio gently poked him in the cheek. "You're still not smiling! Shall I do my cheer-up charm, Lovi? Then you'll feel better! Fusososososo~!"

"Shut. Up. Bastard," Lovino growled, but there was no vehemence in the words, and an amused smile was trying to work its way out from behind the persistent scowl, from Antonio's antics.

Antonio flung his arms around Lovino happily. "Yay~! Saw that! You smiled~! I told you my cheer-up charm always works."

Lovino moaned in annoyance. "Shut up already, damn it. It doesn't work, you just look like too much of an idiot when doing it for me not to laugh. And another thing – you're always associating smiling with happiness. Just 'cos you _may_ have got me to look vaguely like I might have been a tiny bit amused doesn't mean I'm happy, you know."

"_Si_, but it's a step in the right direction…" Antonio froze, the idea he'd almost had yesterday springing back to life in his head, yet infuriatingly just beyond reach. It was like a word he was trying to recall, but it wasn't quite the one he was looking for. Something to do with happiness, Lovino's happiness. The concept hung on a branch that was just inches from his fingertips, tantalisingly close, yet so hard to catch. What if…if Lovino's world transformed in the best way to make him happy…what would happen if…if… Antonio sighed internally as the thought failed to complete itself. The idea had gone again. It was a shame – the thought had felt like it was going to be a really good idea before it decided to go and play hide-and-seek in his own brain.

Perhaps talking about it would help – it often did, even just to get his thoughts in order. "Hey, Lovi?"

Lovino jolted slightly, obviously disturbed from where he'd accidentally been dozing off after Antonio zoned out thinking. "What?"

"There's this thought I'm almost having," Antonio explained. "You know that your world – here – changes to try make you happier?"

"No," Lovino replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I live here and I hadn't noticed a damn thing when stuff around me changes." He directed his patented 'you are an idiot' face at Antonio and rolled his eyes. "If this is the thought you're nearly having, then I think you need to plug what's left of your brain back in – the two cells you use normally just aren't cutting it."

Antonio ignored the jibe, as the thought felt almost like it was about to show itself. "No, not that. It's like, if this place wants you to be happy, then…uh…what if you wanted…it wanted…uh…" He slammed his palm into his forehead in frustration. "Ah! It's gone again. What do you think, Lovi?"

"It'd help if I had any idea what you were talking about, bastard," Lovino retorted. "You're making no sense. Then again, anything that has to do with the workings of this weird-ass place tends to make no sense. It just does whatever it wants, well, what I want, anyway."

Antonio felt light-headed, in an almost surreal atmosphere. "And…what do you want, Lovi? Be honest."

Lovino's cheeks tinged pink, and his gaze dropped to his suddenly fidgeting fingers. "Uh, nothing…uh…Ah, fine! I want to go back to live with you and Feli again! Happy? Shut up!" His face was now an awkward shade of crimson, and he was staring out the window in a blatant attempt to avoid Antonio's gaze.

But, Antonio wasn't interested in catching Lovino's eyes at that moment. The elusive idea had just decided to pay his brain a fleeting visit, and it was forming the beginnings of what might just be a plan. "So…you want to go live with me and Feli back on Earth, right? And this world does whatever'll make you happy, right? So, what if…what if there was a way to get it to do that?"

"Eh?" Lovino, all embarrassment forgotten, twisted his head around and stared at Antonio in disbelief as the idea cleared in his own brain. "You do know that's pretty much impossible, right? Coming back from the dead? That's even worse than you coming here, in terms of 'stuff that's not allowed'."

"So how come I'm here, if it's not allowed?" Antonio asked, still positive about his idea. The concept was solid, even if he didn't quite have a way to put it into practice just yet, and he felt that, in this world at least, everything was impossible enough that every idea needed trying at least once before being discarded in disgust.

"For the last fucking time, I don't know!" Lovino said loudly. "You just seemed to get all sad and wish that you were with me!"

Antonio nodded. "And you wanted me to be here too, right?"

Lovino's face, which had just returned back to its normal colour, flared red again. "Shut up," he said quietly.

"So it was like a connection, right?" Antonio persisted as the last pieces of his idea slid into place with an electric thrill. "You at one end, with your magic world that does stuff to make you happy, and me at the other, who wanted that to happen, even though I didn't know it was possible at the time. Well, what if we tried reversing that? I'm at my end, wanting you to be back alive on Earth, and you here, wanting to go back and stay back until you 'die' again. Which we'll stop from happening until you've had the life you deserve – a long, proper life. Do you think it'd be possible to try that?

It was a couple of moments of silent comprehension before Lovino's expression turned thoughtful and he raised one hand to his chin in contemplation. "You know, that's just about stupid enough to work. After all, as I heard once, 'where there's a way in, there's a way back'. Although that was about computer hacking, not cross-world transportation."

Antonio smiled, feeling somewhat giddy from an unexpected rush of adrenaline. "Same idea, though. What d'you think?"

Lovino shrugged, still frowning in thought. "Nothing wrong with trying, I guess. But it still raises an absolute shit-ton of questions. Am I going to wake up in my grave, for one thing? I'd die of air loss within about three minutes."

"You'd end up back here, right? And then we'd know it'd work when I turn up here tomorrow night, so I could dig you up and try again the next day." Antonio grinned, trying not to think about being alone in creepy graveyards in the depths of night, and especially not about zombies attempting to eat his brains.

"Yeah…dying of suffocation is really something I want to go through," Lovino replied sarcastically. "What about if it actually does work? Everyone knows I'm dead. What happens when I turn up suddenly alive again? How are we meant to explain it? And then there's, you know, all legal documents and shit?"

Antonio shrugged, wondering why there had to be so many tiny holes in his plan. "I dunno. Maybe get Ludwig or someone who knows things like that to work it all out, once we've got you back. I mean, the documents aren't the important bit, right. No point having those if you're not alive, right?"

Lovino sighed, having lost all point in trying to find flaws. It wasn't as if he wanted to get rid of Antonio's plan in the first place. "Fine. We have one idiot-assed plan, based on a load of guesses and theories. Let's get this thing over and done with already." He was promptly hugged by a delighted Antonio, whose stomach was already a spinning ball of nerves.

XxxxX

"I feel utterly stupid," Lovino growled.

He was sat up, still fully dressed, in the soft white sheets of the large futon that occupied the master bedroom of the grand house. It was a giant room that was probably about the same size as the entire top floor of Antonio's house, but it was bright and airy, and voices echoed slightly off the whitewashed walls. Antonio was stood by the side of the bed, fingers tapping on the side of his shorts with pent-up energy. It was several hours after the plan's first conception – Lovino had declared the time to be twenty-five past six a couple of minutes ago, so it wasn't going to be long before Antonio was whisked back to his normal life by his alarm clock, and their theoretical plan could be put into action. Hopes were high, but Antonio knew they were more than likely about to be dashed against sharp rocks.

Lovino was continuing his rant, background to Antonio's nervous thoughts. "I mean, I'm sat in a bed, about to try 'wish' my way back to life. This sounds like the badly-formed plot of a fairytale, or some shit like that. Wishing never gets people anywhere, and I'm about to try it for myself." Lovino folded his arms over his sandy-brown t-shirt and scowled at Antonio, who just smiled. The sharp words were just a way for Lovino to let out the tension he was repressing; he didn't want to let on just how hopeful he was that this would work. They both were, really.

Antonio leant forward and gently kissed him. "It'll be ok, Lovi. Once I leave, if you try going to sleep, and just keep longing to be back home, ok? Back with me and Feliciano, where we can go to school together, and play football, and eat tomato pasta, and you can play with your cat, and everything else you want to do. Just wish yourself there, ok? I'll be at my end doing the same thing, and we can hope the connection works. I mean, your world wants to make you happy, so by not doing this it's effectively disobeying its own principles~." He laughed, but it was a tense laugh. He'd be so disappointed if Lovino didn't wake up beside him. And then he chuckled to himself at how that last thought sounded.

"Whatever," Lovino shrugged. "Let's get this over with. Got what, about half a minute now?" He glanced at his watch and nodded. "Well, if this doesn't work, I'll see you later tonight. On the off-chance that you're actually right, I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Ok," Antonio replied, trying to keep the nerves and anticipation out of his voice. "Bye-bye, Lovi." He leant forward and gently kissed Lovino, who scowled anxiously and settled down into the bed in an attempt to sleep. Once he was motionless a few seconds later, the room became deathly silent, and Antonio found himself almost longing for the final heart-rending seconds to be up and for the wait to be over.

_BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP! BEEP-BEEP! _

Antonio's stomach somersaulted through his throat as his vision extinguished into the familiar ethereal transportation from heaven back to his own world. Consciousness came back to him slowly, but eventually the soft covers of his bed faded into sense around him, and after a few seconds, his brain caught up with his body and the ability to move returned to him. Automatically, he blindly reached out one hand and shut off his alarm, tumbling the room into ominous, expectant silence. He didn't know if his plan had worked, or even if it was possible for it to work, and the possibilities were beginning to freak him out after so much wondering, so much hope.

Heart in his throat, he opened his eyes and looked around. His bedroom was exactly how he'd left it; disorganised and disappointingly Lovino-less. "Lovi?" he called cautiously. "_Querido_, you there?"

To his increasing distress, there was no response.

"Lovi!" Antonio called, louder this time, but the only thing he could hear was his own voice bouncing back off the tomato-print walls. Undeterred, he leapt out of bed and began to search the house, sure that Lovino would have turned up somewhere within in it, if he was to turn up at all. _Come on, Lovi. You have to be here somewhere. Please? _

But, eight rooms later, his house was clearly proven empty and his heart was a ball of lead sat sorrowfully in the pit of his stomach. His hopes dashed, Antonio sighed and sat dejectedly at the bottom of the stairs, futilely wishing that Lovino had appeared already. The plan had seemed like such a good idea when he'd thought of it. All the pieces had been there – why hadn't it worked? Although, if he thought about it, they knew virtually nothing of how anything to do with heaven worked, so it wasn't as if it was based on solid facts, or even known theories. It could have had any possible consequences, even – and Antonio hated thinking this – that it would have stopped him from going there altogether. It wasn't a particularly comforting thought, but it was hard to think of anything that wasn't the crushing dismay.

With a soft noise of disappointment, Antonio picked himself up off the stairs and trudged up to his room, realising that, after all this, he still had to suffer through another day of school, and also probably of Ludwig convincing him that staying with Lovino was a bad idea. He wasn't sure if he could take that at the moment. _Perhaps I should just call in sick_, he thought as he scavenged his uniform out of various drawers and off of floor spaces. But he reckoned that that would also be a bad idea – someone would come investigating after school if he tried to avoid them. Ludwig would want closure on what he brought up yesterday, Feliciano would be concerned for his welfare, and Gilbert and Francis were just nosy. And, to cap it off, Antonio didn't really want to face a day at home with nothing to do, whereas at school he would at least have a reason to be bored and people to talk to in classes.

Once he was fully dressed, he headed back downstairs in search of some breakfast. He wasn't particularly hungry at the moment, but he knew from past experience that he would be before lunch if he didn't have at least something to eat before he left. And it was always really uncomfortable sat in a silent classroom while trying to stop your stomach from growling. Antonio stared momentarily out of the kitchen window, watching the sunlight dapple gently across the plants in his garden. It was a sad day when embarrassment was your motivation to eat.

His phone buzzed in his trouser pocket as he rummaged inside the cupboards for his Tupperware box of emergency churros, making him jump slightly. He retrieved the persistent device and opened the recently-received text.

**[Yo, Toni! :) Watch out skool. Wests got a potato up his tailpipe and its nt awsum, so b careful (*v*)] **

Antonio sighed again as he tapped out his short reply. He knew the text was from Gilbert even without the nickname for his brother. No one else used 'awesome' in almost every sentence like that, and even fewer people used bird-emoticons as their signature. But the implication wasn't good, and it just made Antonio feel worse about going into school that day. He'd been anticipating another logic-versus-emotion standoff with Ludwig today, but to be directly told that it was going to happen…it just confirmed what he did not want to hear. Antonio didn't like worrying about things, as it often gave him a stomachache, but he couldn't help it about this. It was too-delicately hanging off a precipice for him _not_ to be concerned. If he lost control of how the situation was going, it could end up going down completely the wrong path.

He glanced at his watch while eating his churros, informing him that it was 06:56, and he still had a lot of time to kill before he needed to head off to school. The churros he was eating were ever-so-slightly soggy from being stored overnight, and he briefly debated about using his spare time to make some more, but it was probably an unwise idea straight before school. He was more than likely to spill something on his nice clean uniform while his spare set needed a wash, and then he'd end up with detention for wearing something else.

There was a sudden _crash_ from upstairs and Antonio spun around abruptly, eyes wide and heart thumping. Was that something falling over? Or had he imagined the noise? Or worse; was there someone upstairs? What sort of burglar hunted through houses at seven in the morning?

Antonio padded quickly but silently across the house and towards the stairs, pausing only to grab an umbrella on the way – the closest thing he could spot to a weapon. He gripped the handle like he would an axe, hoping the intruder upstairs didn't have an knife or a gun. An umbrella wasn't really a match for either of those. His heart was pounding in his throat, seeming louder than his footsteps were. This was about the last thing he could cope with; if he survived the encounter, he wouldn't be surprised if he ended up in some sort of therapy ward dealing with stress.

He could hear muffled cursing as he ascended the stairs, proving that there was indeed someone there; quite probably a very mad someone. It would explain why something had gotten broken if they were mad, but it did not bode well for Antonio if they were. At the edge of the landing he paused, wondering if he should charge in and attack the intruder, or wait for them to come out and ambush them. As he had the element of surprise, he decided on the latter, and waited a few feet outside his bedroom door, gripping his makeshift weapon with a look of determination on his face.

"Ah, screw it," muttered the voice from his bedroom, much clearer this time…and somehow familiar. Antonio paused, but he couldn't let himself hope now, could he? But, before he had much time to think, his bedroom door swung inward and revealed the very person he'd been wanting to see his entire waking morning, looking surprised and slightly guilty.

"Lovi!" Antonio cried happily, dropping the umbrella and launching himself at the other boy, who stepped back in surprise just before they collided and Antonio pulled him in close. "Oh, Lovi! I didn't think it had worked! But it did, and you're here, and you're alive – _ay, Dios_, I'm so happy!" Antonio rubbed his nose against Lovino's cheek, thrilled to feel Lovino against him for real for the first time.

"Bastard, you saw me half an hour ago," Lovino grumbled, but he willingly returned the embrace after trying – and failing – to push Antonio's face off his own. "The only reason it took me so long to get here was that I couldn't get to sleep, damn it. Why, were you worrying?"

"I was so worried, Lovi," Antonio murmured, kissing Lovino's cheek. "I didn't think you were coming."

Lovino rolled his eyes and attempted to swat him away. "You dumbass. Oh, that reminds me. If the school ever accepts me back, remind me to tell them that you're actually not as much of an idiot as they think. This actually was a fucking good idea!" And before Antonio could register it, Lovino's hands grasped the front of his shirt and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

Several minutes later, the two broke apart, flushed and panting slightly. Antonio smiled breathlessly, staring into the depths of Lovino's eyes. "Hmm. If that's how you react, I should come up with good ideas more often~."

"Yeah, but you lack the brain capacity for it," Lovino muttered, trying and failing to stop his face from staying pink.

"Hey!" Antonio pouted, turning wide eyes at Lovino and batting him gently with his hands. "I'm not stupid."

"Ah, fine," Lovino sighed. "I can't be arsed to argue with you at the moment. And…maybe I've got to let you have one 'cos your plan actually worked. Hah!" For the first time in quite a while, there was a clear smile on Lovino's face, and it was one of the most beautiful things Antonio had ever seen. Antonio couldn't help smiling too – not that he wasn't already. Lovino was back, properly alive, and he was here to stay. It was an absolute miracle, and neither of them could be more elated.

"By the way, Lovi, what was that crash?" Antonio asked, remembering the noise that had alerted him to the Italian's presence in the first place.

Lovino's head jerked up slightly, face flushed pink again. "Crash? What crash? There wasn't a crash, damn it, and it certainly wasn't anything getting knocked on the floor and broken!"

Antonio laughed. "Oh, Lovi. Even if it was something priceless that had got broken, I wouldn't mind. I have you here, and that's worth more."

"Oh right?" Lovino shrugged. "Well, in that case, it was a shelf off your bookcase that came off after it was in my way. Think it had a snowglobe on it or something, I dunno. But yeah, it's all on the floor now."

"I really don't mind, Lovi," Antonio repeated, still grinning away. "I'll clean it up later. Now I've – oh! What are we meant to do about school, Lovi? Everyone thinks you're dead, but now you're not, what do we tell everyone? The truth'll take ages to explain!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "That's what I was trying to tell you earlier, damn it. It's a really fucking complicated situation now. School are all going to be like, 'what the fuck? You're dead!", and then I don't know what we can do. We'll tell the truth to Feli and the bastards, 'cos they already know the score, but otherwise…" he tailed off and shrugged. "Well, we could talk to Feli about it. If it's one thing he's good at, it's stupid ideas. He's almost as good as you at those. Tell him to get his arse over here."

"Yay! It'll be a reunion!" Antonio chirped happily as he pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick message.

**[Feli! Something amazing has happened! Get the guys and come over to my house quick!] **

"Sent!" Antonio said happily as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, but Lovino didn't even have a chance to form a suitably condescending response before the device buzzed back.

**[Ooh, what? :) I'll be right over! :D ] **

"He's coming," Antonio informed Lovino, who was craning his neck around to try see the screen. "Hopefully Ludwig'll realise that it's more important than getting to school on time, huh?"

"I'll kill him if he doesn't," Lovino growled. "Potato bastard."

Antonio pocketed his phone and hugged him again. "Aw~. So cute."

"Not. Cute. Damn it." Lovino's muffled voice replied in annoyance as he poked Antonio in the ribs.

Perhaps ten minutes later, there was an excited-sounding ring as whoever was on the other end of the doorbell repeatedly jammed their thumb on the button.

"That'll be him!" Antonio proclaimed, disentangling his arms from around Lovino and racing downstairs. Lovino remained at the top of the stairs, content just to watch until Antonio had explained the situation. They'd quickly decided that it would seriously freak everyone out if Lovino appeared without any warning.

"Ve~!" A delighted cry escaped the younger Italian as Antonio opened the door and was immediately hit by a tackle of a hug. A giant smile was across Feliciano's face – evidently the prospect of good news had excited him greatly. Behind him was Ludwig, Francis and Gilbert, the latter of which's hair was rather damp-looking and had his small yellow bird nesting in it. He seemed to have gotten ready in a hurry, or at least left the house before he would have intended.

"'Sup, Toni," Gilbert grinned as he walked inside. "Feli said you said something amazing happened, so I couldn't deny you my awesome presence. Oh, and West and Franny came too."

"It is nice to know you appreciate us so much, _mon cher_," Francis said dryly, patting Gilbert on the back. "Now, Antoine, what is it that you have to tell us?"

Antonio paused. He was still really excited from Lovino's sudden appearance, almost too excited to try putting his thoughts into words, which wasn't his strong point at the best of times. And the best way to explain this had completely escaped him, even though he'd been thinking about it for the last ten minutes. "Well…it's kinda hard to explain how it happened."

"Try summing it up concisely," Ludwig suggested. He glanced at his watch. "We don't have very long until we need to be at school, and I don't want to be marked absent unnecessarily."

"Ok," Antonio nodded. "But you'll completely forget about school when you hear this, believe me."

"Oh, now the awesome me _has_ to hear this." Gilbert's eyes lit up at the prospect of having an actual reason to miss school, and he dropped onto the sofa, leaning forward expectantly with his crimson gaze fixed intently on Antonio.

Antonio smiled sheepishly. "Well. I don't really know how to begin this, so I'll start at the beginning of the night. So, I was talking to Lovi last night about Ludwig saying that I shouldn't visit him anymore. He got really mad – the sky looked like it was about to start storming. It was partly because he doesn't like you, but mainly because he's been through so much lately that he didn't want anything else bad to happen. So we went up to his house, the one that looks like the one his grandpa used to have, and tried to talk things through. But neither of us really knew what to do, because you like arguing with logic and I can't do logic and Lovi couldn't argue for me, so there was a lot of silence at first. And then there was this thought that I kept almost having, but I kept losing track of it before it got to the end, and the end was the really important bit. It was about happiness, and Lovi's world morphing itself to make him happy, but I couldn't get the point out of the thought. It was really frustrating. I was pretty sure it had to do with something that Lovi wanted, and it was a way to make everyone happy. Ludwig wouldn't complain anymore about me being in dreams every night, and Feli and Lovi wouldn't have to write letters anymore to stay in contact. So I started talking to Lovi again to see if it would tease the thought out of hiding, and-"

"Goddamnit, you bastard, get to the point already!" a voice from upstairs cut him off, and everyone's heads immediately snapped towards the stairs.

"Who was that?" Francis frowned.

Feliciano had a curious, strangely hopeful expression on his face. "Ve~. I know that voice…"

Lovino's head poked down the stairs and looked at them from a slanted angle. "Hey. Long time no see and all that. I had to kill the surprise; the tomato bastard was making no sense and I got bored." He jumped down the last half-dozen steps and landed deftly on the hardwood floor.

"FRATELLO!" Feliciano yelled ecstatically, leaping to his feet and racing over to his reanimated brother. He flung his arms around his neck and hugged him hard, tears of joy tracing down his cheeks. "You're alive! I can't believe it! I'm so happy! I'm not alone any more!"

"Gah! Feliciano, let go of me!" Lovino gasped, trying to regain the oxygen supply his brother had just cut off. Feliciano let the hug go a bit, but still kept the hold on, enabling Lovino to return the embrace, admittedly after scowling a bit.

The other three, meanwhile, were gaping like drowned fish – this wasn't what they'd been expecting when they went in search of amazing news. Ludwig looked like he'd been hit by a telephone pole, and Francis' fine blond eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hair.

Gilbert was the first to recover, albeit looking rather apprehensive. "Uh…Toni…he's not gonna eat my brains or anything is he?" His gaze was directed warily at Lovino, who was still trapped in Feliciano's hug like he'd disappear if Feliciano let go.

Antonio laughed. "No. Don't be silly. If Lovi wanted to eat brains, I'd probably have found out by now."

"You don't possess any brains though. He'd starve if he tried to feed off you," Gilbert sniggered.

"Hey!" Antonio protested.

"Oi, fucktard," Lovino called, his voice somewhat strangled. "I'm not after brains. Stop being a dumbass. And someone get Feli off me."

"Nooo~," Feliciano hummed. "I want to keep fratello. Don't let go."

Ludwig's deep voice cut through the somewhat-more-trivial part of the conversation. "Ok. Before we miss the concept altogether, will one of you explain how on Earth Lovino is back? If that is indeed him." It was the first time that Antonio had seen proper surprise on Ludwig's face; it was a strange, almost disconcerting expression.

"I was me last time I checked, potato bastard," Lovino retorted promptly. "And you've been a jerk throughout most of this, from what I've heard, so you can shut up right now, damn it."

"To be fair, Ludwig hasn't been a jerk, just a little more sceptical and logical than anyone else," Francis pointed out. "Someone has to listen to reason, even though it is a far from popular choice."

Lovino scoffed. "Whatever. I still hate the bastard." He squirmed slightly in his brother's hold. "Right, you've hugged me for long enough now, Feli. Let. Me. Go."

"No!" Feliciano moaned, tightening his hold on his brother. "I haven't seen you in ages and I need to make up for all the hugs you missed out on."

"I've had more than enough hugs from the tomato bastard lately," Lovino retorted. "Get off!"

Antonio wasn't sure if Lovino was actually annoyed at Feliciano or not, but decided to step in before a sibling argument got accidentally caused and laid a hand gently on Lovino's shoulder. "Aw, don't argue, you guys. It's the wrong time to be fighting! You should be happy! If you don't want to hug, how about you go sit down, and you can sit next to each other! Besides, we didn't answer Ludwig's question, and he probably wants to know what happened pretty badly."

Lovino shrugged offhandedly as Feliciano reluctantly released his grip. "It's not as if there's much to it. Dunno how most of it happened and the rest of it is damn madness." Nevertheless, he disentangled himself from his brother and dropped onto the end of the sofa that Gilbert wasn't on. Feliciano immediately jumped onto the seat next to him with a delighted 've~', grasping onto his hand as if it were a lifeline. He had a giant smile even bigger than his normal one plastered across his face. Antonio couldn't blame him – he'd just been granted an unthinkable miracle that had previously been deemed impossible. He must be happy beyond belief.

"It would still be interesting to know what happened," Ludwig disagreed, taking the spare armchair by the wall as Francis sat in the one by the window. Antonio settled down on the floor – the others were the guests, after all, and they deserved the seats.

Gilbert nodded. "Yup. You know, what with the entire coming-back-from-the-dead-and-not-eating-our-brains' thing. Be useful to know how you do that."

"You are _not _raising an army of ex-dead people, Gilbert," Ludwig said severely, knowing what his brother was like.

"Not an army," Gilbert grinned roguishly. "Just a few people. Like Friedrich the Second. Now he was an awesome guy if there every was one."

"You are not bringing back old Prussian emperors either," Ludwig rebuked. "Don't be irresponsible. Now, Antonio, where were you in your explanation?"

Antonio was wondering the same thing, and was about to reply when Lovino cut him off. "You're seriously asking him what happened after last time? He took about five minutes to explain fuck all."

"I wasn't explaining nothing!" Antonio protested. "It was a bit of background so they understood what was going on."

"Yeah, but you didn't need to go into detail about how you couldn't think of that idea for ages," Lovino countered. "That's complete overkill. All that happened was that the tomato bastard" – he jerked his thumb at Antonio – "thought that if my world, you know, my part of heaven, responded to whichever way makes me happy, and I wanted to be back with him and Feliciano here, then it'd do that. Like the reverse of how the tomato bastard was brought there. So we tried it, and voila. Here I am." He spread his arms briefly and shrugged before getting attacked by another of Feliciano's hugs, squawking as he got pressed into the back of the sofa.

Francis laughed. "He is happy to see you, _non_? But I have to say I am surprised. I would have thought that returning from the dead was a harder task than it has turned out to be."

Ludwig frowned. "If that's the case, if it's that simple, then how come people haven't been able to do this before? How come Lovino's the first person to have come back to life? If there were others, we'd have heard about them, surely?"

"My theory," Lovino replied, "is that it requires a connection between here and there. From what I heard, the tomato bastard's the first person who's ever been able to go between the two, even though that was a complete accident. So it'd be the first time that there's ever been the connection needed to transport someone. 'Course, it's all theory, and more than likely that it's complete bullshit, but it's how I've managed to explain everything."

Antonio nodded. "It required both me and Lovi for things to work, so it fits things so far."

Ludwig sighed. "Well, as long as this doesn't initiate an influx of people returning from the dead, then I suppose I'll accept things as they are. I can't really complain too much, as it really makes everyone a lot happier than they were a month or so ago. But again, there is one last thing. How do we explain this to everyone? And what about identification, official records, school, et cetera?"

"Well, me and Lovi have been talking about it a bit, but we were rather hoping you'd have a few ideas on how to do that," Antonio answered uncertainly. "I don't know about all that paperwork-y stuff."

Ludwig sighed again, as if to say '_why me?'_. "Very well. But," he glanced at his watch, "it will have to wait until after school. I am very close to being late as it is, and the day will give me some extra time to think about how to sort this whole mess out. Lovino will be best off waiting here until we return."

Gilbert stared at him incredulously. "You think we're off to school today? Ain't happening, West. I'm sticking here, and not just 'cos it's an excuse to skip the day. And you really think Feli's gonna pick a day full of teachers and homework ahead of his brother who's just unexpectedly alive? You ain't gonna win there. Kesesese. Skive ALL the days!"

"Mmm," Feliciano agreed. "Sorry, Ludi, but I wanna stay here with fratello!" He still hadn't let Lovino go, although the latter had managed to get into a slightly more comfortable position despite having his brother sat on top of him. "I'll go to school tomorrow, I promise."

Ludwig frowned. "Am I the only one who has any respect for rules and attendance here? There's no point in school if we don't regularly go. But, that aside, I can see that I'm not going to be able to persuade you into it. I will see you at about half four, and we can think this through further. Now, I'm going to go before I am late." He got up from his seat, brushed off his blazer, picked up his backpack and headed for the door, as the others bade him goodbye.

"West's such a stickler for the rules," Gilbert grinned. "Now we can just chill here, and we've got the little spitfire back too! This is almost as awesome as me!"

Feliciano nodded happily. "Yay! It's the best! Ooh, I know! I'll make some pasta as a celebration!" He leapt to his feet eagerly before his brother pulled him back down.

"It's not even half eight in the morning, you moron," Lovino bickered. "You can't have pasta for breakfast. Make it at lunchtime or something."

"Aw, I can't argue with you, fratello," Feliciano smiled, not even slightly put off by his brother's sharp words. "I'm just too happy! We'll make pasta later! With lots of tomatoes for you."

"You'd better," was Lovino's short response, but it wasn't hard to tell that, inside, he was as happy as his younger brother was.

XxxxX

Several weeks later, Antonio and Lovino stood leaning against the wall outside the gates of the school, hand in hand. Their bags were slung on the floor next to them, useless and almost forgotten. The leaves of the trees overhead were a spotless emerald green, bright and healthy, and the few birds that weren't bothered by the students below sung harmonies in their depths. It was a bright summer day, the kind of day where the sun shone down from a virtually cloudless sky, the kind of day where it was hot, but not sticky and sweltering, and a cool breeze appeared just often enough to keep the edge off the heat.

It had taken a lot of paperwork, bureaucracy and complicated explanations to get Lovino back into school, and back into the system of the world in general. Papers saying Lovino wasn't dead had been relatively easy to obtain, thanks to Ludwig's skill and some useful connections of Gilbert's, but the tricky part had been getting various friends and acquaintances to believe that Lovino was alive. Most had been fobbed off with a very convoluted lie saying that Lovino hadn't been dead all along, but in the end, they'd been forced to tell the truth to some people, and even then they were met with suspicion and disbelief. Although the support of the ever-serious Ludwig had been enough to convince many that it was real, and Antonio was eternally grateful for his assistance in everything. He was pretty sure that Lovino was grateful too, but the Italian adamantly refused to show any appreciation for Ludwig, even if Antonio asked him. But now, the two lovers were oblivious to the rest of the world, content to just stand and watch it go by.

Antonio smiled and squeezed Lovino's hand. "Well. It's the end of the year. Bet you never expected to see this day here, Lovi."

Lovino shrugged. "Actually, I did. You know, seeing as how I never expected to be dead in the first place, I was pretty sure that finishing the year was inevitable."

"True," Antonio laughed. "But, small points aside, I'm glad we're here now. And we've got the whole summer ahead of us."

Lovino grunted. "Yeah, then you're off to university fifty fucking miles away."

Antonio drew up the hand that was holding Lovino's, pulling the Italian close. He dropped the hand and linked both of his around Lovino's waist, leaning his forehead against that of his now-blushing companion. "Sorry, Lovinito. I didn't know that you were so special when I decided where I was going. But I'll come visit every weekend, and you can visit me too. And I'll spend the days in the middle of the week counting the hours until I next see _mi amor_."

"Sappy bastard," Lovino muttered, his face the wrong shade of red to be angry, and Antonio knew easily that he wasn't.

Antonio kissed him happily. "And I'm _your_ sappy bastard, Lovi. I always will be. But let's not think about September yet. We've got to find loads of fun stuff to do over the summer! And then we get to do it!"

Lovino shrugged. "Hmph. Sometimes I miss having whatever the hell I want at the click of my fingers."

"Aw~. But having me and Feli and being back on Earth makes up for it, right?" Antonio pouted, blinking large green eyes at Lovino. He occasionally wondered if Lovino regretted his decision to come back, and if he hadn't been happy with Lovino's return, it would have worried him.

"Shut the fuck up," Lovino retorted, scowling in a futile effort not to look embarrassed. And in Lovino's repertoire, that was synonymous with a resounding 'yes', and Antonio was more than happy with it.

"_Te amo tambien, _Lovi," Antonio smiled, giving the Italian another quick kiss before looking up at the sky. It really was a nice day, almost like one of the days they'd had in Lovino's heaven, and Antonio wanted to make the most of it while it was here. "Come on. If we get home quick, we can go up to the river before dinner."

"Whatever," Lovino shrugged, and leant down to pick up his bag. After handing Antonio his and the pair had slung them over their respective shoulders, they set off down the street, out of one chapter of life and into another. It had been a wild ride, these past few months. Neither was entirely sure how a lot of it had happened, and they probably would never know the full explanation for sure, but they wouldn't exchange the happiness they had found for the world. It was a second chance at a life that they would otherwise have never had.

_**Fin**_

* * *

><p>Monster chapter, this. But I didn't want to split it, so it took ages to do to the point where I liked it. Originally, the ending was meant to be sad, but I thought Toni and Lovi had been through enough, so we have some nice fluff at the end. :3<br>I'm going to miss writing this…

A final thank you to all readers, fav-ers and reviewers! I never expected something I wrote to become this popular, and it has been a real inspiration throughout! Hope you enjoyed reading! :)

If you wish to see more of my work, my next fic _The Heartbreaker _is up as of a week or so ago and updates will commence as of a few days time. More Spamano! (I like Spamano~)


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